


These Four Kings: Year One

by escribo



Series: These Four Kings [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, M/M, Marauders' Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-12
Updated: 2012-09-12
Packaged: 2017-11-14 02:38:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 25,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/510433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/escribo/pseuds/escribo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's the day after the full moon and the Lupins get a visitor.</p>
          </blockquote>





	1. Year 1: August 7 (Saturday) 1971.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the day after the full moon and the Lupins get a visitor.

The rain stopped just when Remus woke up, sweaty and hot where he sprawled across his twin bed. His mother had opened the window whilst he slept but no breeze came in and he could tell it was late in the afternoon as the scattered clouds reflected red in the setting sun. The air was thick, as heavy as the woolen blankets his mum had tucked around him that morning when they had brought him in from the shed. He kicked them from his thin legs, too tired to properly get up just yet. It was quiet in the little house near the river and Remus laid still for a little while longer, chasing the dreams he had just left.

Soon though, he could hear his mother’s soft footsteps mounting the stairs, pausing midway up as she stopped to listen for him. He closed his eyes tighter, pretending to still be asleep, not ready to talk yet—really he just wasn’t ready for her concern, which could be as smothering as the blankets.

It didn’t work.

He could hear her footsteps again, then the door being slowly pushed open, creaking on its hinge. Her cool hand pressed against his forehead, checking for fever, replaced by her lips. When she sat on the edge of his bed, Remus curled toward her and she pushed her fingers through his curls.

Remus opened his eyes to look up at her. She was wearing a faded blue dress printed with tiny leaves and her favorite apron, the one with the small pink roses embroidered on it that her sister had given to her years ago. It, too, was faded and washed soft and thin. Her mouth was pinched with worry and her pale eyes distant but when she saw he was awake, her lips turned up at the corners, a small, private smile just for him.

“Are you hungry?” she asked, her hands gentle as she smoothed down a rough edge of the bandage on his arm.

“Yes.” His voice was hoarse from the night before, and she pressed him back into his pillows when he tried to sit up.

“I’ll make you some toast and tea while you dress. Maybe some soup?” 

She waited until he nodded before she kissed his cheek. “Do you need help getting dressed?”

This close she smelled like the honeysuckle soap she had used as long as he could remember and he wanted to press his face against her apron as he had done when he was younger but thought himself too grown now at eleven. Instead, he mustered up a smile and said, “No, I’m all right.”

As soon as she was gone, so was Remus’ smile. He lay quietly on his bed, cataloguing his hurts. The pain in his arm was the worst of it, but his knees, ankles, back, and shoulders all ached from where muscle and bone had reshaped themselves twice the previous night. He raised his hands to look at his arms, spreading his fingers wide, inspecting the web of scars that stretched silver over both palms. Some were nearly invisible, though Remus could see them all. The more recent ones were red and pink, standing out starkly vivid against his skin.

Sitting up, he braced himself with both hands flat against his mattress and closed his eyes until his head cleared and he felt less like he’d been holding his breath for too long under water. He moved slowly, testing his muscles as he eased to stand on the scrubbed wooden floor, cool beneath his bare feet, and he stood still, looking out the window.

Remus hated the day after the full moon, when he felt weak and slow. This time it wasn’t too bad, which he was grateful for, but he wished he was normal, that he could go to school and run and jump and play with the other boys he sometimes saw running through the woods and down to the river. He knew he was lucky this time because he had only spent one day in bed recovering but sometimes a whole week would go by before he was well enough to dress himself much less go back to his studies and projects.

He found his jeans and his favorite t-shirt, also faded and soft from so many washing, and dressed slowly. The stairs were harder to navigate and they creaked beneath his weight as he leaned heavily against the railing. At the bottom, he stopped to peek into the small room where his father sat at his desk to work, a pencil in his hand as he marked a passage in a thick book laid out in front of him.

In the kitchen, Remus sat at the battered old table, swinging his feet so they just barely dusted over the floor as he ate from a bowl of thick vegetable soup. His mother was moving quietly around the room, scrubbing at the counter with a wet rag as she hummed along with a Beatles song on the radio. 

Remus used the crust of his bread to chase the last of the soup and and then took a long drink of milk before setting both his bowl and his glass aside. On the table in front of him were six ragged pieces of paper taped together to form the map he had been creating of the woods behind their house. Just before the full moon, he had declared the ruins he had found there to be Roman, though he knew they were not, only just a long abandoned farmer’s shed. Now, he drew more lines on the map with the stub of a pencil, moving back the border of known territory closer to the no man’s land that led to the river.

The back door was open to let in the air and the trees and plants glistened from the storm that had just passed. In the late summer, the garden was a riot of vines and weeds and heavy, ripe fruits and vegetables. A dirt path led to the woods beyond and down to the river. Maybe tomorrow, he thought, he could go outside, though he didn’t want to ask just yet. It would take a few days before his mum would let Remus out of her sight and he wasn’t ready to begin cajoling her.

“Have you finished, Remus? Would you like some more milk?”

Remus shook his head ‘no’ and swung down from the chair to take his glass and bowl to the sink. His mum nudged him gently out of the way when he reached for the faucet and trailed her soapy, wet hand over his head before running more hot water into the sink.

“I’ll wash them, mum.”

“No. Sit and rest. Once I’m done, we can listen to the radio for a bit before you go back up to bed.”

A knock at the front door ended any protest Remus wanted to make about going to bed so early when he had only just come down stairs. They rarely had visitors, living far enough from the small village where his father worked as a teacher to deter all but the most determined. Sometimes the parents of one of Mr. Lupin’s students would make the long drive out but it was rare, especially with the start of term still weeks away, and usually spelled trouble of one sort or another. 

Worse was the thought of who else could come to visit but never had so far—people from his father’s past that his parents never spoke about when Remus was in the room but who he still learned to be afraid of like other children feared bogeymen. The monsters in the Lupins’ past were all too real.

Mrs. Lupin put her still damp hands on Remus’ shoulders and pulled him tight against her, her arm curving around his chest. They could hear his father open the door and usher someone into the front room where they spoke quietly for a long time. His mother switched off the radio though neither of them could make out more than the rumble of voices as they strained to listen.

When his father called Remus’ name, his mother’s arms tightened around him, but Remus patted her hand before pulling away. He was afraid, too, but he knew his father would never let anybody hurt him.

The man who had come to visit them was tall with a long, grey beard and long, grey hair. He was dressed in a dark blue robe covered with silver moons and stars and he wore an odd, pointed hat that crooked at the very tip. Remus paused at the door to the sitting room and stared, his eyes wide. The man smiled at him, a twinkle in his blue eyes, and Remus knew he didn’t have to be afraid.

“Here he is, my son: Remus. This is Albus Dumbledore,” his father said as he stood to encourage Remus to come further in the room. “Professor Dumbledore is the headmaster of a school in Scotland.”

“Hello, sir,” Remus greeted the man shyly.

“Your father told me you’re studying advanced maths,” Dumbledore said, and Remus nodded. “And that you can read Latin and Greek.”

“My father taught me,” Remus said as Mr. Lupin and Professor Dumbledore sat down across from one another on the worn couch and chair.

“He also told me that sometimes you make things happen without meaning to. That you can make things fly to you when you’re sick in bed and sometimes make your toys come alive to play with you.”

Remus didn’t answer at first. There were many things that he and his family never talked about with strangers, a long list of secrets to be kept, and Remus had become very good at keeping secrets. 

Instead, he worried a loose thread on the unraveling hem of his shirt and looked down at the his father’s hand, now holding his own. He rubbed his thumb over the raised scar on the back of his father’s hand and waited until his father squeezed his hand back before Remus nodded again. He didn’t dare to meet the stranger’s eyes though he found he wanted to. He found that he liked the way those eyes seemed to be laughing—not at him, not at Remus—but at some secret of his own that Remus desperately wanted to be let in on.

“Come here, Remus,” Dumbledore said, encouraging Remus to come closer.

Remus looked to his father first and was reassured by what he saw in his father’s deep brown eyes that were so much like his own. He took a step closer to the stranger, raising his hands to let Albus Dumbledore take them between his own. 

Dumbledore turned Remus’ hands over to look at the scars, his hands gentle as he inspected the bandage on Remus’ arm, and then smiled gently.

“Would you like to come to my school, Remus?”

“I don’t know, sir.”

“Hogwarts is a very special school. It’s not like the village school where your father teaches. It’s for children like you.”

“Werewolves?” Remus breathed out, afraid to say it out loud, terrified that he had said too much when he heard his father take a deep breath behind him. Dumbledore didn’t flinch at the word, though. The thought that maybe the school was for werewolves and that there might be more children like him didn’t comfort Remus. He looked over his should to his father, his face pinched with worry before he turned back to Dumbledore. “Is it a place for another cure?”

“No,” Dumbledore said and Remus thought he sounded sad. “Hogwarts is a school witchcraft and wizardry. For young witches and wizards, like yourself.”

“Wizardry?”

“Yes.”

“You teach magic?”

“Yes. Would you like to learn how to control your magic?”

The house was quiet as they waited for Remus’ answer. From somewhere in the depths of Dumbledore’s cloak, Remus thought he heard the skittering of mice or maybe the slight beating of tiny wings. His eyes opened wider as he considered the strange man in front of him. There were things Dumbledore wasn’t saying, Remus was sure, but that he could still hear, like when his dad would tell him the stories of the stars and Remus would begin to think that maybe it was the stars themselves that were telling the stories.

“You would teach it to me?” Remus whispered, not quite believing that such a place existed or that he would be allowed to attend.

“Yes, if you would like to come and learn.”

“What about the other students? Would they hate me?” Remus glanced back at his father again as his voice caught in his throat. 

“Do the children here hate you?” Dumbledore asked, his voice soft as if he could spare Remus any more pain. It made Remus’ eyes prickle and the bridge of his nose itch.

“I don’t know any other kids here but when we lived in Surrey, they said—they used to say…” Remus stopped and bit his lip, not wanting to admit how the other children made fun of his scars or ran from him, called him diseased when he turned up wrapped in bandages or when strange things happened around him. How they called him stupid when he didn’t know any of their games but wouldn’t stop to explain the rules.

“The country has been better for Remus,” his father said, his words weaving around his heavy accent to sound like a plea to Remus’ ears. “He can play in the woods here and there is no one to bother him. No one to…”

“Yes, of course, but it would be different at Hogwarts,” Dumbledore said, still looking only at Remus, and now Remus found himself unable to look away. “You’ll have the chance to make friends with witches and wizards of your own age. You’ll be able to learn with other children. Would you like that Remus?”

“Yes, but—“

“And we’ll take precautions and make allowances. None of the other students ever need know about your lycanthropy unless you choose to tell them.”

Remus was so stunned by the idea of purposefully telling someone else that he was a werewolf that the rest of the visit was a blur. He stood by his father’s chair and tried not to stare as Dumbledore finished his tea then disappeared from the house with a loud pop. 

Later, Remus pushed the door to his room shut tight to block out the sound of his mum and dad fighting, his mum’s voice going high and thin, wavering with tears as she railed against his dad who pleaded with her to understand in return. His window was still opened wide and he could hear that it had begun to rain again. He liked to listen to the sound of it against the roof, and he screwed his eyes shut so that he could concentrate on that rather than his parents.

He thought again of his map and the shed, of the little copse of trees just behind it and the strange mound of dirt that he had saved to explore until after this full moon. He thought of anything and everything except the strange man who had visited them and the offer he had made until the burning in his chest stopped and he felt as though he could breath again.

Remus moved quietly around his room, changing into his pajamas, fixing his bed. He straightened the stack of library books and notebooks piled high on his desk, collected all his pens and pencils back into their cup. When there was nothing left to do, he sat by the window and curled his hand around a toy dragon to march it along the sill. His thoughts finally returned to their visitor— _Albus Dumbledore_ , Remus whispered—and the options that had been presented to him: the school, Hogwarts, the idea of friends. Magic.

Try as he might, he couldn’t imagine any situation that could arise when he would want to tell people that he was a werewolf, especially to anyone who would bother to be his friend. It seemed impossible at best, like a puzzle that he’d lost the picture to, try as he might to figure it out. It was only when he realized the house had gone silent, echoing only with the sound of his father’s footsteps on the stairs, that he sighed and straightened in his chair as his door was pushed open.

“Remus? Are you ready for bed?”

“Almost. Dad?”

“If you don’t want to go, you do not have to.” His dad stood in the doorway, his hand on the knob. There was something in the way he looked down at the old braided throw rug beneath his feet, unable to meet Remus’ eyes, that made Remus think it was the compromise from the fight. Remus knew he was being forced to navigate between the opposite poles of what his mother and father wanted for him, and of what he wanted for himself.

“I want to go,” Remus whispered nervously. “It’s just…”

Remus stopped, afraid of speaking his fears out loud—they seemed too many to name. Instead, he turned his attention back to the tiny army of tin knights and horses lined up on the window sill, some broken from years of play. He held up the dragon to inspect its ruby scales before he put it down in front of a knight, touching its back to watch it flutter its wings weakly and take a step before falling on its side.

“Come here, Remus.”

Remus left his toys to sit next to his father on the edge of the bed, the mattress sagging beneath their weight. His father rubbed Remus’ back and they were both silent as his father patiently gathered his words like the errant children in his class. 

Remus was lost in his own thoughts, afraid of what his mum might say, worried that both his parents would be disappointed in him. Terrified but excited at the thought of going to school. It occurred to him that if he did go away to school, it would be his dad that he missed most, and that made guilt curl up tight and hard in his gut.

“I was afraid when I went away to school,” Mr. Lupin finally said as he tipped Remus’ chin up with a gentle finger and smiled gently.

“Was it a wizarding school, too?”

“Yes. Your Aunt Wendy went as well.”

“To Hogwarts?”

“No, it was another school far from here. It was hard but we liked it very much.”

“Mum didn’t go to wizarding school because she doesn’t have magic inside her,” Remus said slowly.

“No, she didn’t, though when you get older, you’ll understand that there are many different kinds of magic.” Mr. Lupin grinned at Remus, laughing when Remus’ cheeks turned pink as they always did at any mention of love and romance. “It’s hard for your mother to understand. She hasn’t met too many good wizards and witches. She never got to see the possibilities. She can’t imagine the world that will open up to you. All the things you’ll be able to do.”

“She doesn’t want me to go.”

“No, but only because she loves you very much and she’s afraid for you. We’ve been able to protect you, Remus, but she’s afraid—we’re afraid that when you leave, we won’t be able to do that anymore. Do you understand?”

“I think so.” Remus traced the outline of an airplane on his pajama bottoms, his mind racing ahead. He wanted to know the things his father knew. He wanted to know magic. He wanted to know if he could have friends, if there could be something more than full moons, pain, and loneliness. “You want me to go.”

“I do.”

“But you don’t use magic anymore, right?”

“No, I don’t.” Mr. Lupin sighed, his mouth working around words that Remus wasn’t sure he would actually speak. They were quiet for a long time, the silence disturbed only by the far away song of crickets and frogs before his father spoke again. “Like the people you’ve known, Remus, there are bad and good wizards, too.”

“But people aren’t all bad or all good. You told me that.” Remus looked up at his father, his mouth settling into a hard line and his stomach twisting a little as he tried to understand. His father put his arm around his shoulders and pulled him close to kiss the top of his head.

“I mean only that having magic inside doesn’t make a person better. Sometimes it’s easy to believe that when you see all the things that you’ll be able to do. Sometimes that can make you feel invincible, but wizards and witches can still make mistakes. They can still be careless.”

“Did you make a mistake? Is that why you don’t use magic anymore?”

“I made a terrible mistake, Remus, and I’ve paid for it a million times over. I was not so young, you see, and I should have known better but…” Mr. Lupin stopped and breathed out a sigh. He slipped his finger through Remus’ curly hair, leaning to press his cheek to Remus’ head.

“I promised your mother that I wouldn’t use magic anymore after that. That we would live simply. There was a chance that you would take after your mum and be a muggle and so would never need to know any more than you already do.”

“What’s a muggle?”

“Non-wizarding.”

“But I’m like you.”

“Yes.”

“Mum doesn’t want me to go.”

“She wants you to be safe, as do I but still I want you to go.” Mr. Lupin’s voice broke a little and Remus looked up, biting his lip. His father forced a smile and pulled Remus into his arms to hold him tight. “I want you to have the best chance for a good life. I want you to grow up to be a better man than I have ever been.”

Later, after Remus’ parents had gone to bed and the only sound was the soft patter of rain on the roof, Remus thought again about Hogwarts but didn’t feel afraid anymore. He was going to go, he was sure, even though he knew his mum didn’t want him to. He would be brave and go. He would learn everything he could. Even if he never made a single friend, he thought as he drifted off to sleep, he would still do his best to make his dad proud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (revised June 4, 2017)


	2. Chapter 2

September 1 (Wednesday) 1971 

Peter had tried to find an empty compartment on the train, but there had been none left, and in the end he'd eased into one occupied by three other boys and a girl, first years like himself, who didn't seem to notice him at all when he sat nearest the door. The girl sat nearest the window, crying, and Peter was glad that he had been able to hold back the urge to cry himself. He'd thought about it as soon as the train had jerked away, and he could still see his mother on the platform, looking tired and defeated but relieved, too, he thought with a tiny twist of his guts that had chased his tears away, and he hadn't wanted to consider that any harder.

That he'd received the letter at all was something of a miracle to Peter. He had known for years that he could make things happen without even trying, but had hid that ability, perversely enjoying the way his mother despaired with his aunt about the possibility he might be a squib. He had dreamed of the day when he would suddenly be able to make something big happen--magic them a pile of gold, or transfigure their cat into a lion that would kill his mother's husband so they could be free. Instead, the letter from Hogwarts had come, announcing his acceptance, and his mother had sat down heavily in her chair, staring between Peter and the letter while he slowly twisted his hands over and over as if washing them in an imaginary sink.

 _Thank Merlin you're not a squib_ , she had finally said, and Peter had wanted to laugh. He had, later, when his mother did, too, after his brother had arrived in their fireplace for dinner that night. _I thought he was a squib,_ she had said again, and everyone at the table had laughed, his brother the loudest, as the bowls of mashed turnips and baked beans flew from the kitchen and slopped over onto the blue checked tablecloth as they landed.

Those words were in Peter's head still as he sat on the Hogwarts Express: _Thank Merlin I'm not a squib_. He'd always known he wasn't, and his acceptance letter was jammed into his back pocket now, in case anyone demanded proof of it, as his brother had suggested they might. He would be a wizard; he'd figure out how to magic that lot of gold for his mother, and they'd be able to move from above the Muggle pub where she worked as a waitress. Her husband had said there was no easier way to make gold than by separating it from drunken Muggles, but Peter figured there must be, since his family didn't seem to have a lot of it. Only just enough to get by and then some, as his mother had so often said.

"You'd better be in Slytherin."

"Slytherin?" It was the girl in the corner by the window asked, her voice tremulous. Her tears seemed to have dried up as she spoke with the pale boy in front of her, her head tipped to the side as if she was trying to riddle something out. The rest of the compartment had gone quiet, too, the two black-haired boys next to Peter interested now as well.

"Who wants to be in Slytherin? I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?" The question came from the boy closest to Peter, his eyes round and big behind his glasses, as the other boy across from him sunk lower in his seat, repeatedly kicking the heel of his shoe against the bottom of the bench. This boy didn't smile back.

"My whole family has been in Slytherin," he said as his long hair slipped forward to cover his face and his gray eyes glinted dangerously, as if he meant to hit someone.

Peter was quite sure he wouldn't have said anything else, but the boy with the glasses didn't seem to mind; he just sat up a little straighter, his lips twitching into a smile as he said, "Blimey, and I thought you seemed all right!"

The other boy did grin then, sitting up as if suddenly finding the joke. "Maybe I'll break the tradition. Where are you heading, if you've got the choice?"

The boy with the glasses bounced out of his seat and raised his arm high as if thrusting an invisible sword and slashing through the air. "Gryffindor," he yelled, "'where dwell the brave at heart!' Like my dad."

The boy by the window made a small, disparaging noise, as if he was trying to swallow something bitter and sneeze all at the same time. The boy with the glasses turned and thrust his imaginary sword at him, and Peter imagined the blade stopping just at the boy's throat, like in the pictures of fairy books, right before it was revealed that the Muggle knight was really a Wizard in disguise. It was all Peter could do to keep from clapping.

"Got a problem with that?" The boy with the glasses asked, his imaginary sword still thrust in the air before him.

"No, if you'd rather be brawny than brainy--"

"Where're you hoping to go, seeing as you're neither?"

The boy with the glasses dropped his hand and fell back into his seat, roaring with laughter, as the boy across from him grinned again, pushing his hand through his black hair, looking less dangerous to Peter now, so that he smiled, too. The girl sat up, her cheeks glowing as red as her hair, and she looked at the other boys in disgust, her eyes taking in Peter as well. Peter's smile faltered for a moment as he looked at the other boys before deciding that perhaps the two closest to him had it right; he joined them to laugh out loud and earned a scowl from the girl as well.

"Come on, Severus, let's find another compartment," she said, her nose going into the air and her bright red hair swinging over her shoulder as if she couldn't quite stand to breathe the same air as them any longer, and Peter watched, having never seen anything like it before. They stood up, the girl and Severus, she had said his name was, to the sound of her words being repeated back to her as the other boys imitated her lofty voice and turned their noses up, clasping their hands beneath their chins. Peter laughed again, understanding that at least, as he'd been teased enough in the Muggle school he'd attended for less than a year before his mother found a tutor to teach him to read and write. He was grateful this time to have found himself on the right side of it.

The boy with the glasses stuck his foot out, trying to trip Severus as he passed. Severus managed to step over it, though when Peter tried it, too, Severus ended up stumbling into the hall.

"See ya, Snivellus!" The boy with the glasses called as the compartment door slammed shut. He sat up in his seat and looked around before his eyes settled on the boy across from him again. He stuck his hand out and said, "James Potter."

"Sirius Black." They shook hands and Peter sat up in his seat a bit, watching them.

"And you?" James said, looking at Peter.

"Peter Pettigrew."

"I know who your family is," James said, turning back to Sirius almost as if Peter hadn't spoken at all, and sat back, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Who in the wizarding world doesn't," Sirius drawled.

"You're the heir," said James, as if he understood these things, and Peter wondered what being the _air_ meant. "You really will be a Slytherin then."

"I won't."

"And how are you going to get out of it?"

"I'll ask." Sirius turned his head to look out the window at the countryside speeding by. Peter suspected that Sirius honestly believed just asking would work, and Peter couldn't help but wonder _who_ one would ask. The Headmaster, he supposed, but that didn't sound right either.

"You can't just ask," James said, taking his glasses off and cleaning them on the tail of his shirt.

"My father said that they put the Sorting Hat on you," Sirius began, his voice sure as if he'd been thinking about this for a while.

"I heard it was a test, something really hard," Peter interrupted, moving to sit on the edge of his seat and leaning in, wanting to know. He suspected his brother had lied to him about tests and spells and drinking a potion that would rot his tongue if he lied. Sirius looked at him with something like disdain while James laughed, so Peter turned to him. "My brother told me."

"You brother lied. It's the Sorting Hat. You sit on a stool in front of the whole school and it sorts you into one of the four houses. And you can't ask for it to put you someplace."

"Why not?" Sirius eased into the seat that the girl had left and stretched out across the bench, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Because you can't. It reads your thoughts or something, and tells you where you're going to be."

"Then it'll read that I don't want to be in Slytherin."

"That's not going to work."

"I'll bet it does."

"Fine, have it your way. Pocket money for a month?"

James held out his hand and Sirius didn't hesitate, sitting up to shake his hand, and then they were off talking about Quidditch, about which Peter actually knew quite a lot, but he didn't say anything else for a long time. Instead, he sat quietly, practicing the words, _I'd like to be put into Gryffindor, please,_ repeating them in his head and trying to remember what James had initially said about Gryffindor--something about the heart dwelling--because he thought it might help his case.

Later that night, Peter still couldn't remember the exact phrase, and he thought it was lucky that the Sorting Hat kept calling out _Gryffindor_ , because otherwise he might forget altogether. His brother had been placed in Ravenclaw, and his mother had said she couldn't wish for two Ravenclaw sons but would be happy enough if he could say he'd gotten into Hufflepuff. Peter hadn't liked the sound of that, thinking that maybe there was a danger of not being called for anything at all. So far, though all the students before him had been sorted, including Sirius Black into Gryffindor, just as he'd said. The silence in the Great Hall as Professor McGonagall picked up the hat from Sirius' head was broken only by James hissing quietly so that only Peter heard, _dammit, a whole month's worth_. There'd been a note of something else in James' voice, too, though, something that sounded like admiration to Peter.

His turn was coming closer now. Peter could see the rickety stool where another boy sat-- _Lupin, Remus_ \--the hat sitting nearly on his shoulders, he was so small. His fingers were stretched out frozen in front of him, one thumb pressed to the other, which made Peter think of tiny wings. It took a long time, almost as long as it had taken with Sirius, and the Great Hall was quiet until the hat called out _Gryffindor_. Professor McGonagall smiled as she removed the hat and patted the boy's shoulder while the Gryffindor table cheered.

"How many Gryffindor boys can there be?" Peter whispered, having long ago lost count of how many had been called but thinking that surely they'd met the limit and he would be sorted into Hufflepuff after all, without ever being able to ask.

"They've only called two boys for Gryffindor," James whispered back as the Gryffindor cheers died down. Peter looked over to the table and saw that the Gryffindor first years sat together toward the middle. Remus Lupin was just sitting down across from Sirius with odd, stiff movements, and the girl from the train, Lily Evans, sat with two other girls, Iana Halley and Sabine something, Peter couldn't remember.

"And I'll be called for sure," James continued, and Peter nodded in agreement though he was barely listening now, because _McKinnon, Matthew_ was being called for Ravenclaw. The line was shuffling up, and Peter could see that there were only three more students in front of him. And then suddenly it was his turn, _Pettigrew, Peter,_ and he sat on the stool, gripping the seat with both hands as he looked up at Professor McGonagall's stern face and then out over the sea of faces in the Great Hall. She placed the hat on his head, and all was dark.

"Let's see what we have here," a voice said, and Peter jumped.

"It's Peter," Peter said, whispering because he wasn't sure he should be answering. "Peter Pettigrew."

"Oh yes, I remember the other Pettigrew, Andrew. Smart lad."

"I'm not like my brother," Peter said and then worried that it was the wrong thing to say as well. He wondered how one was supposed to talk to a hat and almost wished it had been a test.

"No? He was rather cunning, too. I did think perhaps Slytherin for him as well."

"Not Slytherin, please not Slytherin. I thought maybe Gryffindor."

"Gryffindor?" The hat seemed to scoff or sneer, the sound bringing up an image of his mother. Peter hadn't known a hat could do that, and he sat up straighter on the stool.

"I could be in Gryffindor," Peter said.

"And not Hufflepuff, you don't think?"

There was now a sound of laughter in the hat's voice, though maybe it wasn't a proper voice at all, now that Peter thought about it; no hat he'd ever owned had spoken to him. Peter screwed up his courage and said it again: "I should like to be in Gryffindor. Please."

This time the voice did come from without, the hat shouting _Gryffindor_ , and then it was gone and the cheers were coming from the Gryffindor table, doubled in volume seconds later when _Potter, James_ had barely sat upon the stool and the hat scarcely touched his head before calling out Gryffindor again.

Peter could not believe his luck and he was already forming the words he would write to his mother: _Gryffindor, which everyone says is the best house, better than Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw combined._ She'd see then that he was definitely a wizard and not just barely _not_ a squib. His father might have been some great wizard, an auror perhaps, and that's why his mum said she didn't know his name; he could have been undercover, and begged her not to tell.

So caught up with his daydreams, Peter missed the end of the Sorting and all of Professor Dumbledore's remarks. He shoveled in food he didn't taste until quite suddenly there was a slice of cake in front of him, half gone, his fork poised above but frozen in place as the rest of the first years fell silent. Peter looked around and dropped his fork when he found Professor McGonagall standing behind him. He turned back around and sat up straight, James and Sirius staring at him as if he'd done something incredibly bad or incredibly stupid, and he supposed it could have been either.

"Mr. Lupin," Professor McGonagall said, her hand coming to rest, rather heavily Peter thought, on the shoulder of the boy next to him. "If you wouldn't mind coming with me to my office for a few moments, if you're finished with your dinner."

James and Sirius' eyes flickered in unison from Peter to Remus as Remus rose up awkwardly from the bench, his second-hand robe already showing a small tear where it had caught on a splinter from the sorting stool. They watched as he followed McGonagall from the Great Hall.

"He can't have got in trouble already," James said. "We just got here."

"A prefect told you off already for telling that girl that she'd have to wrestle the giant squid as part of the sorting," Sirius told him.

"That didn't count. I didn't think she'd believe me."

Sirius was smiling though, as though he had thought it a great joke anyway.

"My brother said that sometimes they hang you by your fingernails for hours in the dungeons if you're caught doing something bad," Peter blurted out.

For a moment James and Sirius stared at him, and then they burst out laughing, James banging the table with his hand, wheezing out, "That won't work. Your fingernails would fall out. Your brother's full of shit, mate."

The girls next to them breathed in together as one and for a moment Peter wondered how they did that, just as James and Sirius who seemed to fall into such an easy friendship that they seemed to move in unison already. He looked back at James and Sirius, to see if he could guess what they would do next, but James was leaning across the table, his glasses askew, and Sirius was turned away already, looking at the table behind them.

"I said _it_ , Evans."

"You didn't. You're just lucky that Professor McGonagall has already gone off with Remus."

"I said his brother was full of _it_ , isn't that right, Pettigrew."

Peter nodded, surprised that James remembered his name. "And he is, too. My brother. Though he did say that redheaded girls were tattle-tales."

James crowed again with laughter as Evans twisted up her face in a particularly unbecoming way and stood, the other girls, six in all, rising with her. Peter hadn't remembered precisely what his brother had said about redheads--he hadn't understood it all, being two years younger besides--but he thought maybe he'd gotten it close enough. The girls were moving off, along with everyone else all of a sudden, the meal done, and Peter jumped up when James and Sirius did, fighting his way through the crowd to where the other boys were gathering near the Gryffindor prefect who said, "Follow me, Gryffindor first years."

They spilled out the Great Hall doors, less in a single file line than in undulating form; the girls clumped together, clinging to each other's arms and chattering above the noise around them, while James, Sirius, and Peter walked behind them.

"How is that other boy going to find the dormitory?" Peter asked, standing on his tip toes in an effort to see around the taller students.

"McGonagall is our head of house," Sirius said, putting his hand on Peter's shoulder to shove him back down flat on his feet and push him forward.

"My brother said--"

"I thought we established that your brother quite possibly never attended Hogwarts."

"He did," Peter said. "But a long time ago. He was in his third year when I was born. He works for the Ministry now."

"Cousin."

Their path was suddenly blocked by a tall young woman wearing the colors of Slytherin, and Peter wondered for a moment if maybe she was the head of that house. He saw the _Head Girl_ badge on her chest, then, though he didn't let his eyes linger there for too long out of fear for what she might do to him if caught. Her long blonde hair shifted on her shoulder as she leaned down, catching Sirius first by the chin and then, when he jerked away, by his shoulder.

"Cissa," Sirius said, and Peter now noticed the family resemblance. Another Black, he supposed, and wondered if the school wasn't crawling with them. He remembered Sirius had said that everyone knew who they were.

"Don't call me that," the girl said, straightening to tower over Sirius. She released Sirius when he shrugged as if the command didn't matter to him. "Your mother isn't going to be pleased about your little performance in there, cousin."

"No, probably not," Sirius said. He had jammed his hands deep into his pockets, his chin lifting defiantly but Peter thought he caught something that flickered like fear in Sirius' eyes but it was gone in an instant as Sirius bit out his next words. "Why don't you go ahead and owl her? I don't suppose you need help spelling the word _traitor_?"

The girl's hand rose up swiftly, and Peter closed his eyes against the sound of the slap that never came. Instead, James pushed him forward again, and he stumbled on the first step as they all climbed the staircase silently, the girls in front of them talking enough for ten boys, Peter thought. Halfway up the second flight of stairs, he finally dared to look around for the girl who had stopped them, and saw her standing with a tall boy with long blond hair, staring back at the Gryffindors with such malice that Peter immediately turned around, remembering what his brother had said about wordless curses. This time Peter had reason to believe him.

Everything was forgotten, though, once they reached the first year boys' dormitory in the Gryffindor tower and found their beds and trunks. Peter couldn't remember ever having been so tired, and he stood stupidly in the middle of the room, watching as James and Sirius chased each other around, jumping from trunk to bed to chair to window seat back to bed, only having to touch the floor once near the door to go from Sirius' bed to James'.

Peter found his trunk at the end of his bed, nearest the stove that was burning red with heat between James' and Remus' beds. He dug through, finding his pajamas, and the other boys gave the room another circuit while Sirius reminded James about their bet on the train at the top of his voice. When Peter came back from the bathroom, he crawled into his bed, and sighed deeply when he settled back into the pillows and blankets.

"You don't snore do you, Black?" James asked, kneeling down at his trunk finally to dig out his pajamas.

"No, but I bet Pettigrew does."

"I do not," Peter lied, grinning up at the canopy of his bed.

"Tosser. You'd better not."

Peter rose up on his elbows, smiling agreeably at where Sirius was unbuttoning his shirt before he flopped back, pulling the covers up with him.

"Who was that girl, Sirius?" Peter heard James quietly ask Sirius just as Peter was on the edge of sleep.

"My cousin, Narcissa.”

"She looked like she wanted to hex you."

"I told you, practically my whole family has been in Slytherin. She's sending an owl to my mother right now, I bet."

"No more bets tonight."

"I suspect the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black will be in a right uproar tonight. I bet I have a howler in the morning."

Peter could think of at least ten other dreadful things he would rather have happen than receive a howler at breakfast where the whole school could hear, but he thought Sirius sounded a bit gleeful at the prospect. Peter raised his head, trying to see Sirius' face, but he couldn't; instead he lay back down to listen.

"It's not like you did it on purpose," James said.

"I did, too. I told you I would ask to be in Gryffindor."

"But what did it say, the Sorting Hat? Because it didn't say anything to me other than _Potter_."

"It did me, and I told it that I didn't want to be in Slytherin."

"But what did it say?"

Peter never heard Sirius' response if he would have given one. The door to the dormitory creaked opened and closed, and though Peter didn't sit up to make sure, he knew it must be Remus Lupin back from Professor McGonagall's office but he fell asleep before anyone could speak, to confirm or anything else.


	3. Chapter 3

December 6 (Monday) 1971

 

Sirius completely blamed his cousin, Narcissa, for the howler that one of the stately Black family owls had dropped onto his eggs before it swept out of the Great Hall. It was already red and smoking, though just delivered, and Sirius had forced a laugh and poked it with his fork. He often wondered if his mother quite understood that what she said in the missives would be heard by the entire school given one of the primary rules of the Black family household was that they didn't discuss family business in front of the unworthy. Looking up and down the Gryffindor table, Sirius knew that everyone who was whispering _go on, open it_ would be deemed unworthy.

It had only been yesterday afternoon that Sirius had signed up to stay at school for the Christmas holidays but he supposed that it had taken less than an hour for Narcissa to see it and owl his mother. The result was in front of him. He didn't need to open it. He knew he would be going home and that, he felt, was punishment enough.

"It's just going to get worse," James said, prodding it with his own fork.

"Let it." Sirius picked it up off his plate and tossed it onto the table where it continued to smoke and shudder, the paper smoldering. Sirius grabbed his fork and a slice of toast, and began eating again. After only a few seconds, the howler rose up, formed itself into an imitation of Walburga Black, her voice booming at Sirius, impossibly loud, and Sirius continued to calmly eat as the words of _family duty and honor_ and _respect_ washed over him. They'd been his lullabies, the fairy stories his mother would have told had it been her disposition. When it was over, when it had finally burned itself out and his mother's voice finished echoing throughout the Great Hall and his housemates had removed their hands from over their ears, Sirius turned to look at the Slytherin table, at Narcissa, at the way she turned and leaned against Lucius Malfoy, laughing at Sirius.

It took him three days to come up with any sort of plan that felt good enough to be called a proper revenge. There were details to be worked out but that was what James was best at.

"Did you find out where their common room is?" Sirius asked James once the confetti of his mother's ire had finally settled and the noise returned to the Great Hall.

"No. I had to convince Malfoy that I got lost on my way to Potions." James stabbed at a potato with his fork and frowned at it. "Don't suppose you could just ask your cousin?"

"I'm sure she'd be happy to tell me after she jinxed my ears off my head."

"I could follow Snape." James and Sirius both turned to look at Peter, surprised that he would think of it much less suggest it. "He wouldn't suspect me, right?"

"Their common room is in the dungeon."

Sirius looked down the table to where Remus Lupin sat alone, reading a book as he ate his breakfast. Remus was their roommate and fellow first year Gryffindor, but the other three boys had found it difficult to talk to him and so he'd been mostly avoided. Not that they particularly had to go out of their way to do so since he spent most of his time in the library. On the rare occasion when the topic of Remus had come up, they speculated that he was Muggle born, which fascinated all three boys who had come from Wizarding families, alternately brilliant (suggested by James) and dim (suggested by Sirius, who couldn't fathom another reason for someone spending so much time in the library), and sickly, which explained his frequent absences altogether from the Gryffindor dormitory. On the whole, there was little to recommend him to any of his three classmates and he often ended up paired with the girls during class assignments, which made him further suspect.

"We figured that, thank you very much," Sirius said, leaning forward on his elbows to see around Peter. "But where in the dungeons?"

"Beneath the lake," Remus answered, finally looking up at Sirius rather owlishly. Sirius thought again that perhaps it was his time spent in the library that made him so pale, and _not_ , as James had suggested, because he was a vampire. Still, Sirius tried to look at Remus' teeth as he spoke, just to be sure.

"How do you know that?" James asked as he pushed his plate away and also leaned forward to gawk at Remus who had already gone back to his book.

“Doesn't matter," Sirius said. "Doesn't do us any good if we don't know where the door is.”

"The passages are a bit like a labyrinth. Past our Potions' classroom, there's another broom closet and then a statue of Hector the Horrible wearing an executioner's hood and carrying a scythe. You take the passage on the right and follow it around," Remus said, demonstrating with his hands the twists and turns one would have to make. "There's a long portion of wall there with no portraits before the hall dead-ends. I haven't seen how they do it. There's no place to hide but it's got to be there."

"How do you _know_ that?" James asked again.

"Doesn't matter. Peter doesn't have to follow Snape now and we can use the statue," Sirius said. He reached for another thick slice of toast and licked his thumb before he picked his fork back up. "They have to pass by it, right?"

All three boys look back to Remus, watching as he sat quietly as if contemplating their question. He turned another page in his book, nibbling at the edge of a scone, before he finally nodded.

"So we'll put the dungbombs at the base of the statue and set them to go off as they're coming up to breakfast. That charm will work." Sirius pushed his plate away and sat up straighter in his chair, leaning into James and Peter though speaking so that Remus could hear as well, even though he'd gone back to his book. Sirius had often wondered how anyone could read whilst eating in the noisy Great Hall but then he couldn't remember a time when he had seen Remus without a book.

"There's a better way, though. James has that spell disperser from Zonko's. I saw you with it last weekend." Remus said, setting down his knife and fork but never moving his eyes from off his book.

"Yeah, but what good is that?" Sirius asked, leaning over Peter again to whisper at Remus. 

You can use a sticking charm to put on the statue, facing their common room, and set it to go off as they're coming up to breakfast." Remus carefully creased the upper corner of the page he was on and closed the book before he held it out to Sirius. "Then, when you add a _Viridulus_ hex, they won't see its effects until they come up from the dungeons because it won't show until they're in sunlight."

"A _Viridulus_ hex?" Sirius asked. He took the book from Remus and opened it to the marked page, James leaning in to read over his shoulder. When he looked back up, his eyes were bright. "That's genius."

"And because it's facing their common room and we set it off before breakfast, the Slytherins coming behind won't notice anything out of place. Much better than dungbombs," James added. "I told you. I knew he couldn't just be studying all that time in the library."

"You can set it for any color. It tells you how, but I think that disgusting green, since they love it so much." Remus stood and grabbed his old patched book bag, and took the book from James. He flashed a rare grin at the other boys and Sirius thought that it was the first time he'd ever actually seen Remus do anything that came close to a smile. "I'll copy out the instructions," he said, and then he was gone, back to the library, Sirius supposed.

 

December 7 (Tuesday) 1971

In the morning, Sirius found the hex written out in a very neat hand on a scrap of parchment tucked into the pocket of his trousers. He looked around but Remus was already gone, his bed neatly made as usual, though Sirius couldn't figure that out either; that's why they had house elves, he reasoned. He unrolled the parchment and found a note at the bottom that said, _Be careful. This will take weeks to fade away._ All the better, he thought, and hoped that his cousin would be early to breakfast.

 

December 9 (Thursday) 1971

The first indication that the prank had gone off perfectly was two days later when Theophilus Avery, a first year Slytherin, walked into the Great Hall, his skin turning a particularly vile shade of green when he sat down for breakfast in a patch of sunlight streaming in from the window behind his seat. By the time the bell had sounded for the first class, half of the Slytherins were stained a blotchy green that refused to be rubbed off. By lunch, the entire student population was in uproar--the Slytherins were enraged and the rest of the houses argued about how it could have happened. Classes were cancelled for the rest of the day as the professors attempted to return the Slytherins to normal and the students of the other houses were confined to their common rooms or the library since no one would claim responsibility.

 

December 10 (Friday) 1971

The next day, classes were back in session though many of the Slytherins remained green, including Severus Snape, who came in Potions with his arm, hand, and ear a brilliant shade, like a lizard basking on a green leaf. Sirius poked James in the back and James nearly fell out of his chair laughing, earning them a five point deduction from Slughorn. Sirius turned to grin at Remus who was sitting behind him and Remus bent lower over his book, trying to hide his smile when Snape turned to snarl at James.

"Think it's funny, Lupin," Snape hissed when Slughorn turned his back to write on the chalkboard. "At least the dye will fade away, unlike your scars. I'm surprised your roommates haven't caught something from you already. I do hope it's fatal."

Sirius heard Snape, and turned to watch Remus as he tried to tug down the sleeves of his robe over the map work of lines that crisscrossed the back of his hands and disappeared beneath the cuffs of his shirt. His cheeks were burning red when he caught Sirius staring, and he whispered, a little desperately to Sirius' ears, "They're not from a disease."

Sirius nodded but didn't turn away, wanting to look harder at the lines that traveled along Remus' skin, but Slughorn had turned back and class had begun. Still, he couldn't get the sound of Remus' voice from his head, remembering a time right after Halloween when Remus had come back late and stood undressing in a patch of moonlight streaming in from the window. James had said he'd heard Remus had gone home because his mum was ill but Sirius saw four thin marks against the pale skin of his back, like lashes, and his whole body had stiffened in sympathy. He had resolved to say something in the morning, but Remus was gone before breakfast, like always, and Sirius never let himself think of it again.

He couldn't ignore it now and his hand tightened into a fist now as he stared hard at the back of Snape's head as Slughorn lectured, and then was quick to partner with Remus when it was time to prepare their ingredients. James quirked his head when he found himself with Peter but Sirius shook his head, warning him to say nothing. Remus, for his part, said nothing either, except what was absolutely necessary, and kept his hand out of view when he could. At the end of class, Remus was the first to pack up and escape before Sirius could stop him.

The rest of the day didn't go any better. It had been nearly impossible to sneak back down into the dungeons during the afternoon when they had a free period and James and Sirius had been forced to abandon the disperser behind a suit of armor. They snuck out again that night to retrieve it, serving as lookouts as Peter, being the smallest and least suspect, had gone picked it up but he was now trapped in a tiny alcove, a prefect having run for help when he'd found his shoelaces suddenly attacking his feet as he neared Peter's hiding place. James and Sirius could hear Professor Slughorn's booming voice echoing up from the floor beneath them as he slowly navigated the stairs. "A trap, Narcissa?" he asked. "However did you manage-- Yes, yes. Come along then, Mr. Filch, and we'll straighten out the whole affair."

"He's scared," James whispered. "He's going to get caught."

Sirius leaned forward then, too, and motioned for Peter to run. Peter held up his hands, showing them to be green.

"I should have gone myself," he whispered to James. "If he gets caught, they'll know it was us." Sirius looked around the corner again and groaned. "It's Lupin. What's he doing here?"

“Coming back from the library, probably."

Remus spotted them immediately, and Sirius watched as Remus looked around him to find Peter's round, shining face peeking out from the alcove that barely concealed him. He darted out when he saw Remus, but then immediately scampered back into the darkness. From the stairwell below them, they could hear Narcissa's voice floating up to them and see the great gleaming eyes of Filch's cat as it came around the corner, spotted Remus, and turned around to warn its master. Sirius stepped out then and hissed Remus' name, motioning for him to go. "Just run."

Remus didn't though, just shook his head and turned from Sirius. James grabbed Sirius' wrist and pulled him back when he would follow, then they watched as Remus ran silently down the hall, pulled Peter from the alcove, and took the disperser. He waved his wand over Peter's hands before sending him nearly sprawling with a push to his back toward James and Sirius. Peter took off running and slid around the corner, the voices closer now. Remus only just had a chance to shove the disperser into his pocket and hide his hands behind his back before Slughorn stepped into the hallway with Mr. Filch and Narcissa, her faced still splattered green, following closely behind.

"A first year," Mr. Filch said as he took Remus by his arm and jerked him forward. Grinning wide enough to display yellowed and rotting teeth, Filch grabbed Remus' wrist and raised his sleeve. "And look at his hand. I think we've found our culprit."

“Remus Lupin? I really don't think. Well, empty out your pockets, Lupin," Slughorn said.

Remus pulled his hand from Mr. Filch's grip and dug into his pocket, taking out the disperser and holding it out in his palm. Mr. Filch took it from him.

"Mr. Lupin, do you know what this is?" Professor Slughorn asked, still sounding incredulous that a first year--and this first year in particular--should have been the mastermind.

"Yes, sir."

Slughorn took it from Mr. Filch, turned it in his hand, touched his wand to it though nothing happened. He looked back at Remus, his eyes going over Remus' shabby robes and his patched bookbag. Sirius whispered, "Lupin is rubbish at Potions. Slughorn probably thinks he's too stupid to have come up with something as brilliant as this."

James grinned back at him, pushing his glasses back up his nose.

"Perhaps you found this on the floor? Just picked it up?" Remus stood still and silent beneath where Mr. Filch pinned him to the floor with a heavy hand on his shoulder. Slughorn twisted the disperser in his hand again. "Surely you must have seen it earlier in the hands of one of your classmates, yes? Perhaps Mr. Black?"

"No, sir. I didn't see Sirius with it with this week."

"He's lying," Narcissa hissed, raising her wand, and Sirius pulled his own wand.

James put his hand on Sirius' to stop him from hexing Narcissa and giving them away. "Wait. It's McGonagall."

Sirius lowered his wand and carefully looked back around James to see their Head of House sweeping down the hall.

"What's going on here? Horace?" Professor McGonagall's voice boomed, the cadence of her accent crisp as she spotted Remus.

"It appears we've found our prankster, Minerva," Slughorn said, though his voice sounded doubtful. "I'll admit I'm very much surprised."

"Do you know what happened near the Slytherin common room, Mr. Lupin?"

Sirius carefully peeked around the corner again and saw Remus looking small as Slughorn, Filch, Narcissa, and McGonagall all towered over him. Remus let his bag slide to his feet before he answered, defeated. "Yes, ma'am."

"You understand that this is very serious issue. If you are found to be responsible, you'll have to be punished."

"Yes, ma'am."

"With what? Detentions?” Narcissa hissed derisively, and took a step closer to Remus, pushing her green face into his and grabbing his hand hard enough that her fingernails created half moons in the skin of his green palm. "This little beast should be expelled."

Remus stumbled backwards as if she had hit him, his face stricken. Professor McGonagall drew herself up as she moved to stand behind Remus and put her hands on his shoulders. "Collect yourself, Miss Black. I will not tolerate name calling."

“He turned me green," Narcissa whinged loudly, stomping her foot as she screwed up her face in rage.

"But surely a first year who wasn't raised magical doesn't have enough knowledge to do this, Minerva?" Slughorn rolled up onto his heels, bouncing on his feet a bit as he looked down on Remus. "A hex of that nature? It was quite cleverly done.”

"I've read all about timing, dispersers and delayed magic and I wanted to know if it would work," Remus said.

"It was Sirius Black. I know it was him. He would know how to do this. Not this--" Narcissa's lip curled in disdain but her eyes flickered to Professor McGonagall as she leaned forward to point her finger in Remus' face. Remus didn't budge, only looked at her impassively, though Professor McGonagall tightened her grip on his shoulders. "It was Sirius Black and when I tell his mother, she'll pull him out of Hogwarts. She told him if he got into trouble just once more this year--"

"It wasn't Sirius who knew about the _Viridulus_ hex, Professor McGonagall. It was me. A couple of Slytherins had thrown my book bag into the lake and I wanted to get back at them."

"He's lying. Look at me!" Narcissa wailed, stomping her foot. Her long blond hair slipped from its clip, falling over her face, and she pushed it back with an impatient hand.

“That is enough, Miss Black. Madame Pomfrey said the effects of the curse are not harmful and will fade in a few weeks--

"Weeks!"

"In the meantime, I will deal with Mr. Lupin," Professor McGonagall continued as if she hadn't been interrupted. "Professor Slughorn, if you would be so kind as to escort Miss Black to her common room?"

"Of course. Come Narcissa."

"But he's lying."

Professor McGonagal and Remus watched as Narcissa and Professor Slughorn went back down the hall, followed by Mr. Filch. Narcissa turned to give Remus a dirty look before they disappeared down the stairs, and Professor McGonagall's sigh was loud enough to be heard by the three boys hiding at the end of the hall. McGonagall turned to Remus then and bent down so that they were face to face. "If someone is bullying you, Remus, I want you to come to me."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Come along. We'll talk about your punishment in my office.”

Sirius and James watched as Remus picked up his book bag and followed Professor McGonagall, waiting until they were around the corner to come out.

"What are we going to do?" Sirius whispered to James.

"I don't know. Nothing for right now." James grabbed Peter's hand and looked at where Remus had made the dye disappear. "How did he do that?"

***

In Professor McGonagall's office, Remus let his bag slide from his shoulder and held it by the straps. He worried a loose thread that was unraveling from the material, hoping that it would last until at least Christmas when his mum could patch it for him again. Professor McGonagall stood silently in front of him, her arms crossed over her chest, waiting, Remus supposed, for him to explain himself. He didn't know quite where to begin, so said nothing. When he didn't look up, she sighed again and went to sit at her desk, turning the disperser over, careful to keep her hands away from the remaining charm. Finally she set it down and folded her hands together but Remus still couldn't bring himself to look at her.

"I want you to tell me the truth, Remus."

"Yes, ma'am."

"I do not believe that you did this by yourself, though I certainly think you clever enough to have worked out the details. I suspect you had help and I suspect that I know their names. But it is up to you, Mr. Lupin, to decide if you are willing to take the blame for this incident yourself or if you would like to confide in me the others involved." Professor McGonagall tapped her finger on the desk and Remus looked up then back down at his hands. "Will you tell me their names?"

"No, ma'am."

"So you're willing to accept the punishment by yourself?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Professor McGonagall sat back in her chair, covered her mouth with her hand, and stared at him long enough that he dared to meet her eyes before looking away again, his cheeks turning pink.

"Are you sure?" she asked.

"I'll accept the punishment."

"Then you'll serve your detentions with me. Two weeks. I have a few rare books that I'd like to have copies made for the library and your handwriting is neat enough. Starting tomorrow after dinner, you'll begin making those copies for two hours each night."

"Yes, ma'am."

"And one hundred points from Gryffindor."

Remus swallowed, his eyes flickering up again but then back down to his feet. He had never lost any points for Gryffindor before and everyone would know in the morning that it was him. He could feel his pink cheeks burn red. "Yes, ma'am."

"And please don't think that I will take any pleasure in sending an owl to your parents, Remus."

"My parents?" Remus finally looked up at Professor McGonagall, meeting her eyes for the first time, his forehead pinched in worry.

"I'm afraid so. Unless, I can convince you--" Professor McGonagall paused and leaned forward, her voice more gentle. "Are you sure your dorm mates--Potter or Black, Pettigrew maybe? Are you sure they didn't help you? If they were your friends, Remus, they wouldn't let you take the blame like this by yourself."

"They're not my friends. I don't have any friends."

"Remus." McGonagall's voice sounded very sad and he looked at her for a long time, hating that she pitied him and hating that he'd had to say it out loud. Finally, Professor McGonagall stood and came around her desk and put her hand on his shoulder, looking as though she'd like to say more but deciding, perhaps, that he'd had enough for one night. "All right, Remus. Off to bed with you."

Remus took his time going back to Gryffindor Tower. His thoughts were filled with all that Professor McGonagall had said and what would happen in the morning when the rest of Gryffindor found out he'd lost them so many point. Surprised to find himself so suddenly at the Fat Lady's portrait, he whispered the password and the portrait swung open to allow him to crawl through. James, Peter, and Sirius were waiting in the common room and they surrounded him when he came in. He looked from one face to the other, even more surprised now that they were waiting.

"What happened?" James asked.

"Is McGonagall going to send letters home to all our parents?" Peter asked, looking worried as he wrung his hands in front of himself.

Sirius pushed Peter out of the way and stepped in front of Remus, his mouth quirking up into a smile, confident. "He didn't tell."

"So what did she do to you?"

"Detention for two weeks and one hundred points."

"Two whole weeks?" Peter said. The most any of the three of them had received so far was one week, and Peter's face clearly showed that he felt two an eternity.

"One hundred?” James yelled, even more outraged than Peter. "For hexing a bunch of Slytherins?"

"And a letter home to my parents," Remus added as he looked down at his feet.

Only Sirius heard him, though, because James was still ranting about the lost points. "It'll be okay, right? Probably just a howler. I've gotten loads of those this year."

Remus shrugged, still intent on the hole worn in the toe of his shoe. He wasn't worried about howlers. He was just positive that his mum and dad would be disappointed, which would be worse than a howler, considering all the trouble Professor Dumbledore had taken to get him to Hogwarts and the sacrifices they'd made to keep him there. He couldn't tell that to Sirius, though. "Your cousin said that if you got in trouble again your mother would bring you home. Was that true?"

"Probably not. My parents don't want me around anymore than I want to be there."

"Oh."

"Is that why you did it, Remus?"

"Avery and Mulciber really did throw my stuff into the lake. Mulciber didn't even get any dye on him."

"You still could have told on us but you didn't," James said, stepping up to stand shoulder to shoulder with Sirius. "We'll get Mulciber back."

"I wouldn't have told, even if I'd known your parents wouldn't make you come home." Remus shrugged his shoulders again, still at a loss, and looked away from Sirius. "I'm really tired. I think I'm just going to go up to bed."

"I thought we'd get caught for sure," Peter said to the other boys as Remus made his slow way up the stairs to their dormitory.

"Yeah," Sirius said, watching Remus go as well, his face troubled.

"All the Slytherins are going to think it was him. It won't just be his book bag in the lake that he'll have to worry about." James leaned against the wall next to the portrait and crossed his arms over his chest.

Sirius hooked his thumbs into his back pockets and huffed out a breath when Peter laughed. "No, he won't," Sirius said. He reached up to swing the portrait open and began to climb through.

"Where are you going?" Peter asked, his laughter falling from him when Sirius turned on him. "We'll get in trouble."

"Then stay here, Pettigrew." Sirius turned away from him to climb through opening.

"I just got out of detention," Peter said to James as James began to crawl out behind Sirius.

"Just stay here. We're not going to mention you, right? You didn't really do anything but almost get caught anyway."

***

The halls were dark and empty as James and Sirius made their way to Professor McGonagall's office. They didn't speak. James was trying to figure out a way to get them all out of whatever punishment Professor McGonagall would serve up and Sirius' mind was occupied by how frightened Remus had sounded of a letter going home to his parents. Sirius was never bothered by such things; even the howlers didn't bother him too much now that they were nearly a weekly occurrence.

When Professor McGonagall answered their knock at her office door, surprised to see them by the look on her face, and ushered them into her office to sit. "Potter and Black. I can't say I expected to see you here. Have you come to tell me something about what happened to the Slytherins?"

"It wasn't Lupin," Sirius said.

"He wasn't the one who hexed the Slytherins," James added.

"And you would know this how?"

"It was us," they said together.

"And why would Remus have told me it was him and that neither of you were involved? It's not like him to lie." McGonagall stood towering over them and both boys looked down at their feet. "Did you ask him to lie for you?"

Sirius jerked his head up. "No! He told us where the Slytherin common room is."

"And about the _Viridulus_ hex. He found it in a book--"

"But we set it."

"The disperser is mine. He didn't even know when we did it." James finished.

"So you all had a hand turning the Slytherin students green?"

"Yes, ma'am, but it was mostly our fault," James said.

"I wanted to get back at my cousin." Sirius bit his lip and twisted in his chair. "I started it. Remus and James were just helping me."

Professor McGonagall stared down at the boys for a long minute before she moved to sit behind her desk. "So, you are both willing to share in his punishment?"

"Yes, ma'am," they reply in unison but then Sirius stood up and leaned across Professor McGonagall's desk. "Just please don't send a letter to his parents."

"Letters will go to all of your parents, Mr. Black."

"I don't care about mine but--" Sirius stopped and looked at James, deciding. For a second he wished that he had come alone. Turning back to Professor McGonagall, Sirius scratched his fingernail into the desk. "I think--"

"Go on, Mr. Black."

"I think they might hurt him, his parents, and I don't want him to get into trouble for it."

"What do you mean?"

"When he comes back from visiting them, like when his mum was sick, he always has cuts and bruises on his body."

"Did he tell you this?"

Sirius looked down at James again but couldn't meet his eyes. This felt a little like betraying a trust that Remus had never placed in him but he couldn't stop, couldn't not try to offer Remus the same protection he often wished he had for himself. Sirius straightened up and stared at a point just past her shoulder and said what he felt he had to as fast as he could. "No, ma'am, but I've seen the marks and I know what--" Sirius stopped and swallowed, looked now to Professor McGonagall and hoped that she understood. "He tries to hide them but I've seen them on his arms and his back. And he has these scars--"

"And that's why you came here to tell me the truth?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Professor McGonagall took a deep breath and sat back in her chair, staring at Sirius, her face clearly registering her shock. She nodded at him once and he dropped his eyes and sat back into his chair next to James. "Okay, Sirius," Professor McGonagall said, sounding quite choked. "I won't send an owl to any of your parents. But you'll need to take responsibility for your actions, both of you."

"Yes, ma'am," James and Sirius said together.

"There will be detention for the both of you, same as Mr. Lupin. Two hours every night for two weeks."

"Yes, ma'am."

"And fifty points." The boys jerked their heads up, their mouths dropping open. "Each."

"But Professor McGonagall." James was immediately on his feet, ready to argue against the great injustice he felt was being levied against them and all of Gryffindor. "You already took a hundred from Lupin."

" _To_ Gryffindor, Mr. Potter, for having the courage to tell me the truth."

***

"She gave you fifty points?" Peter walked backward into the dormitory, his hands spread wide as James and Sirius came into the room. His round, pink face was a mask of confusion and surprise as he looked from James to Sirius and back again and Remus clutched his book more firmly in his hands, not looking up but listening closely. "Each?"

"For doing the right thing," James said, as if he still didn't quite believe it.

Sirius hopped onto the end of Remus' bed and began pulling off his shoes, tossing them beneath his own bed. Remus sneaked a peek at Sirius from beneath his fringe and Sirius grinned at him. "For telling the truth. Ridiculous."

"That probably wouldn't have happened when we blew up the girls' bathroom in the dungeon last month." James laughed as he took a circuit around the room from bed to trunk to chair, stopping when he landed on Remus' bed, nearly landing on Remus' leg and Sirius reached back to swat at James' ankle. James dropped onto the bed, sitting cross legged in the middle, and took Remus' book from his hands to read the cover.

"I should have gone. We probably would have come out fifty points ahead."

"I don't think she would have believed that all three of us had reformed," James said, handing Remus his book back and bouncing a bit on the bed. "I'm hungry."

"So just the two weeks of detention?" Peter asked.

"Two hours every night with McGonagall. Same as Lupin." Sirius hopped down from the bed and went to his bedside table. He dug out a handful of chocolate frogs and then crawled back onto Remus' bed, dumping the candy in front of James before he leaned against the pillows next to Remus.

"And the sure revenge of all of Slytherin once they hear." James reached for one of the frogs and passed the rest around. "At least we don't have to worry about howlers in the morning. Or at least, Lupin and I don't."

"Why?" Remus asked, finally breaking his silence. "Professor McGonagall said she was going to send letters."

"Sirius talked her out of it but Narcissa will send one to Sirius' parents. As always." James held a piece of the candy out to Sirius and waited until Sirius took it before he spoke again. "Is what you said in McGonagall's office true?"

Sirius narrowed his eyes at James in warning to not say anything else but gave him a sharp nod in answer. Remus was already looking from one boy to the other, though, and James flopped onto his back, pushing his fingers through his messy hair.

"What did you say?" Remus asked Sirius, his fingers lighting on Sirius' sleeve, and Sirius' eyes flickered down to where Remus' hand rested, to the scars on his fingers and the back of his hand.

"I took care of it, Remus. Just trust me, okay?"

"Yeah." Remus withdrew his hand and took the candy when Sirius offered it to him.

"By the way, how did you get the dye off your and Peter's hands? I thought you said it would take weeks."

This time Remus grinned as he bit a leg from his frog before it could leap away.

"There's a counter spell?" Sirius asked and Remus nodded. "And you didn't tell Professor McGonagall?"

"She didn't ask.”

"Excellent." Peter said, a bit awed as he turned his hand over as if searching for evidence of the magic that Remus has used.

"So we got off easy." James propped himself up on his elbows and smiled at Remus. "We just have to make sure that in the future McGonagall catches Lupin first."

"She clearly has a thing for him," Sirius said in a stage whisper, sending Peter and James into howls of laughter.

They laughed harder when Remus squawked, "She does not!" and elbowed Sirius in the side. They wrestled for a few moments until Sirius managed to capture both of Remus' hands and leaned back against him as if using him for a pillow. Remus was finally laughing, too, once he'd managed to dislodge Sirius and knock him from the bed.

"No matter," Sirius said as he crawled back up onto the bed and bounced on his knees. "We have to make a pact anyway. It's got to be all for one, like in that Muggle book.

" _The Three Musketeers_?" Remus asked.

"There are four of us." Peter said.

"The Four Marauders, then," James said and stuck his hand out. Sirius immediately placed his hand on top of James and they both looked at Remus. Remus put his hand flat onto Sirius' and they all looked at Peter.

"But what are we pacting?" Peter said as he finally put his hand on top of Remus'.

"We're promising to look after each other," Sirius said, looking first at Remus and then James. "Protect each other. No matter what."

"We'll need to, once the Slytherin's hear about what happened tonight," Peter said, his voice sounding dismal.

"C'mon then. I solemnly swear," James said, and the rest followed together. "I solemnly swear."


	4. Chapter 4

January 28 (Friday) 1971

The sun was already setting and casting long shadows throughout the castle when Lily walked back from the owlery where she had spent most of her free period that Friday afternoon. She listened to the clicking sound her shoes made on the broad flagstones of the stairs leading back to Gryffindor Tower. Usually there were so many people around that she couldn't hear herself think much less hear her own footsteps. She liked that, mostly, the way she never felt alone, especially now that Petunia wouldn't even answer her letters.

At the thought of her sister, Lily stopped in front of one of her favorite portraits, that of the Brontë sisters, and smiled as they stopped in their quiet industry to smile and wave back at her. Charlotte had been Petunia's favorite and the portrait was one of the first things Lily had written home about. Lily had never imagined that the Brontë's had been witches, couldn't have, though now she even knew that it was suspected that their younger brother, Branwell, had been a squib. Petunia had called her a liar and Lily had ripped up her letter and not written her again for weeks.

Petunia didn't understand, Lily thought, as she moved more quietly through the halls. Petunia would never understand magic, Severus had said, and she believed him now. How could Petunia? Lily hadn't really believed it herself, even after Severus had explained so much to her. It wasn't until she was sitting on the rickety stool in front of the whole school and the Sorting Hat had declared her a Gryffindor before she truly believed this was all real. That she was a witch. That the strange things she could do really were magic. Petunia couldn't understand that, and Lily didn't know how she could ever explain it.

Of course, Severus was another sore point between her and Petunia. Lily stopped again in the middle of the hall and pressed her fingers to her lips. Petunia hated him but it was just another thing she didn't understand--couldn't understand. He could be kind, _was_ very kind to Lily. She was sure she would be lost without him. None of the other girls in Gryffindor could cast a protective charm in D.A.D.A. or manage a decent summoning charm. Only James and Sirius matched her in Transfiguration and Remus in Astronomy. None of the Gryffindors could come close to her in Potions and that was all due to Severus.

A sound like a stack of books falling startled Lily from her thoughts, and she looked around, surprised to find herself down an unfamiliar hall. It was one she had never been in before, dim and filled with suits of armor that she was sure were watching her. Lily turned to retrace her steps but stopped again when she heard another sound coming from one of the rooms further down the hall that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She looked at the armor nearest her and considered again just finding her way back to the Gryffindor common room but then forced her feet forward.

The rooms along the hall were dark and empty, as if they hadn't been used for classes in an age. She could hear voices now, two of them, one deeper than the other, but both had the same kind of tense excitement as when some of her classmates played wizards' chess, encouraging each other and whispering strategies. She wondered for a moment if ghosts could play chess and wasn't quite sure she wanted to find out, even as she eased around the final suit of armor and peeked into the last darkened classroom.

The desks were all pushed to one end of the room, as Professor Lindt sometimes did when they had practical lessons in D.A.D.A.. In a circle of light, Lily saw the backs of two people and knew immediately that she hadn't stumbled upon ghosts. Lily took a step back, meaning to leave, not wanting to interrupt whatever the pair were up to and risk being drawn into a prank.

A different sound altogether, a kind of panicked scrambling of fingernails on wood, stopped her feet.

"She's pretty, your mum, but she can't save you, can she?" The voice was no more than a whisper but still carried out into the hall and Lily took another step back.

"All she can do is cry. They're so very weak, Muggles. It's all they can do. Like you."

"Why don't you cry for her now? I think I'd like to hear that."

Lily recognized the voices now and clasped her hand against her throat to keep from making a sound. The Lestrange brothers were sixth year Slytherins with a reputation for being determined to make all the first years cry at least once. They'd already had Lily in tears within her first month at Hogwarts along with Grace Prewitt and Sabine Bolingbroke when they had transfigured Sabine's pet rat into a great spider and threatened to trample it beneath their boots before being caught at it by Professor Flitwick. There had even been a rumor that they'd made Sirius Black cry, though he denied it loudly, but even Potter and Black hadn't tried to take revenge on the brothers, afraid, she thought, of what the brothers would do to get back at them.

Lily took another step away from the door, trying not to listen to the brothers' speech. It was entrancing, though, their voices gentle if their words terrifying. Lily wrapped her arms around her middle and took another step back, finding the wall against her back.

"We'll make you cry."

"You know that we can."

"Would you like to see her again? We could open the door again."

"Put you inside."

"You could be with her."

"She could you sing you lullabies while you go mad."

The voices were so deceptively calm, so pleasing in their menace, that they could have been talking about almost anything in the world. Lily crept back toward the door, needing to see who their victim was, and watched as the brothers maneuvered a struggling boy between them. His arms were caught behind his back as Rodolphus, the taller of the twins, reached out to rest his fingers on the handle of a cabinet that was rocking violently as if something was trying to escape it. The boy breathed out something that sounded somewhere between a whimper and a plea.

"Go on, Lupin," Rabastan said, and Lily sucked in her breath, clamping her hand over her mouth in case she could be heard. "Ask your Muggle mother to come save you."

"Ask her to come out again."

"No? I don't think he's going to cry, this one, Rodolphus, not over a stupid boggart."

“There are other ways, of course.”

Lily watched as Rodolphus pushed Remus toward his brother and Rabastan caught Remus' other arm, pulling it behind him.

"I'm getting bored," Rodolphus said as he drew his wand and turned to pace the room. "Let's just finish this up. I don't want to miss dinner."

"Then we should just do it fast." Rabastan pushed Remus to the floor and stepped to stand next to his brother. Rodulphus, who had been using his wand to trace his name in flaming blue letters, lowered it level with his Rabastan's. His voice was still just as conversational, as if they were discussing a Potions lesson to a particularly dim student. "They're only Unforgiveable when they know you've performed them, you see."

"And I figure you won't tell, right?" Rodulphus knelt down in front of Remus and grabbed his ankle, jerking on it hard. "Because it's not the only Unforgiveable we know, the _Cruciatus_ curse."

"He's just a first year, Rodulphus, and a Muggle at that. He probably doesn't know the Unforgiveables."

"This should be an excellent lesson then."

Lily spun around then, meaning to run for a teacher, but her feet wouldn't move. If the Lestrange brothers really meant to perform an Unforgiveable, then she didn't have time. She looked wildly around the hall, searching for anything that could offer help but found only the suits of armor staring emptily back at her. Finally, she had an idea.

Pulling her wand, Lily ran silently across the hall to another of the empty classrooms, and took a deep breath. She'd never used a charm to lift anything heavier than a book, but now she took aim at the suit of armor and whispered _Wingardium Leviosa_. The armor lifted and then dropped with a clatter against the stone floor, its pieces scattering loudly around the hall. Lily quickly pointed to another and sent it skittering into the first before she heard heavy boots pounding forward and she hid herself in the darkness, hoping the Lestrange brothers didn't bother to search too hard for the source of the noise. Fortunately, the boys seemed more interested in not being caught as they ran away, and Lily breathed a heavy sigh after listening to their retreat, pressing a hand to her chest before she dared to look out.

The suits of armor lay on the floor, an empty helmet staring up at Lily as she crept back toward the room. She found Remus on the floor, alone, his hands over his face, and she watched as his chest moved heavily, as if he'd just run a race.

"Are you all right?" she whispered.

Remus jumped, crawling awkwardly up onto his knees. "Who's there?"

"It's me. Lily."

"What are you doing here? The Lestrange--"

"I scared them off. With the suits of armor." Lily took another step inside the room and lifted her wand, whispered _Lumos_. "Are you really all right?"

"I'm fine."

"You're not." Lily walked toward him and knelt on the floor, putting her hand on his shoulder. "You should go to the infirmary."

"I can't." Remus washed his hands over his face one last time before he dropped them at his sides, plucking at his trousers, and gave out a great sigh. "I need to go to the library to finish my Charms essay and she'll keep me for ages."

The cupboard gave a heave, rocking against the wall, and they both jerked their heads up to look at it.

"What is it?" Lily hissed, her hand squeezing Remus' shoulder and missing his wince of pain.

"It's just a boggart."

"They said your mother." Lily stopped talking, not able to make herself repeat what the Lestrange brothers had said. "I thought it was just a ghost."

"No. It turns itself into your worst fear. I saw my mum and she was--" Remus stopped and Lily watched as he bit his lip, remembering, and then he shook his head as if to rid himself of it.

"You have to tell, Remus. What they did."

"No, I don't." Remus gingerly got to his feet, rubbed his hand over his shoulder, before he began looking around for his book bag. He found it in a corner of the room, ignoring the boggart when it gave the cabinet another shudder.

"Not to me, I didn't mean."

"Not to anyone." Remus picked up his bag and shoved his spilled books back into it, checking that his wand was still tucked inside. He lifted it onto his shoulder, wincing a bit again.

"Then I'm going to tell Professor McGonagall."

"No, Lily. Don't. Please." Remus turned away from her and she took a step closer to him but stopped when he took another step away. "They do it because they think I'm weak. It'll be worse if--"

"It's not tattling."

"I wasn't going to say that."

"They were going to perform one of the Unforgiveables, Remus. We have to tell."

"They were just trying to scare me."

By the way Remus' voice wavered and how pale and gray his skin was in the dim light of Lily's wand, Lily thought they had done a good job but kept quiet. She watched as he adjusted his bag on his shoulder again then pulled his hands into the sleeves of his robe so that she couldn't see his hands shake.

"I'm fine," he said. "I really just need to get my homework done before the weekend."

"Do you have to go home again?"

Remus' expression was suddenly unreadable and Lily was the first to look away, her heart beating hard in her chest, though she couldn't say why she felt more afraid now than she had earlier with the Lestrange's so near. She shook her head and clasped her hands into fists, angry with herself. She couldn't help but think of how there were so very many things that she didn't understand about magic and felt a sudden warmth of understanding toward Petunia.

Lily sighed and watched as Remus walked toward the door before following him, giving one last look at the cabinet that held the boggart. Remus carefully looked both ways down the hall, satisfying himself, Lily thought, that the Lestrange brothers were really gone, before he took a step into the hall.

"Are you sure you're all right, Remus?"

"I'm fine," he said again as they stepped over the pieces of armor that still littered the hall. He stopped suddenly, cocking his head to the side as if listening for the brothers to return, and then turned to Lily, stopping her with a hand to her wrist. "Thank you, Lily, for what you did but I don't want to talk about it anymore, all right?"

"Sure, if you want."

"And please don't tell anyone."

"I won't."

"Thank you," he said again and took an awkward step away from her as if suddenly realizing he was touching a girl, and blushed. "I need to go. We shouldn't stay up here."

Lily nodded and followed Remus down the hall and a flight of stairs until they were back to a more familiar part of the castle. She couldn't think of anything else to say, her mind on the Lestrange brothers, on the things they had said, and the way that Remus had hardly made a sound through it all when she knew that anyone else would have been reduced to tears, knew that she would be crying still. She sneaked a look at him as they walked, at the determined set of his mouth and the glint of his deep brown eyes that seemed a bit dimmed from their usual brightness.

"I'd like you to come to my birthday party on Sunday," Lily said impulsively, putting her hand on his sleeve to stop Remus before he could turn toward the library, and forced herself to smile. "I mean, it's not really a party but it'll be fun. My mum is sending cake, muggle cake." Lily caught Remus' hand and felt it tremble against her own and knew that he wasn't as unaffected as he pretended and she admired him even more.

"I don't think—"

"Professor McGonagall said that we could go up to the astronomy tower to see the full moon." It was there again, the closed off expression and the sense of danger that Lily couldn't quite place, but she plowed ahead, focusing on a spot just past Remus' shoulder. "It's not like presents and stuff. You don't to have to bring anything. It'll just be the other girls from Gryffindor and Benjamin Goran, Matthew McKinnon, and Nathan Stebbins from Ravenclaw." Lily gently tugged on Remus' hand, ignoring her own blush, and stepped closer, biting her lip.

"Is Severus going to be there."

When Lily hesitated, Remus pulled his hand away, adjusted the strap of his book bag and took a step away. "He's my best friend," Lily finally said, straightening up and hating that felt that she needed to defend Severus to Remus. "You don't know him like I do."

"He hexed James and Sirius when—"

"They've hexed him."

"But he actually hurt James. Drew blood."

Lily looked away from Remus' steady gaze, not liking that she knew he was right and tried to remember all the times that James and Sirius had called Severus names, tried to trip him in the halls, or caused his books to fall, his ink bottle to spill, or his parchments to suddenly combust. "I'm sure he didn't mean to."

"All right, Lily," Remus said though he sounded doubtful. "I need to go."

"Will you at least think about it, Remus?"

"I can't—"

"Not about the party." Lily swung her hand dismissively, hating that she had asked him in the first place. She'd known since they had all come back from Christmas holidays that Remus was now suddenly friends with Potter and Black, and so Severus said that meant Remus was his enemy, too. Remus seemed too quiet, too thoughtful and gentle to be anyone's enemy but Severus didn't want to hear it. Lily still hated that there were lines of allegiance and hated it even more that she found herself in a position of having to follow them. "I meant about telling Professor McGonagall. Or at least a prefect. They could have really hurt you."

"I can handle it.

"You shouldn't have to, Remus." But Remus was already walking away, disappearing around the corner on his way to the library. Lily turned herself and walked again towards Gryffindor Tower, thinking there were some things about magic that she was glad that Petunia would never learn about, things she didn't think she wanted to understand herself.


	5. Chapter 5

March 1 (Wednesday) 1972

James had gone to bed that night with the thought that there was little in his world that wasn't good and right. It was February 29th, the day that didn't exist, and Sirius and he had pulled a spectacular prank on Severus Snape, one that had made even Lily Evans grin a little before she had remembered to scowl. An hour after lights out, James was still lying in his bed thinking about it and laughing to himself. He was positive he could improve upon it if he could talk Remus into showing him the book that the held the specific sticky hands charms they'd used.

Sitting up, James looked at Remus' bed, still undisturbed for a second night. A thought had begun to form in his head about that--Remus' disappearances, his illnesses--but it was still new enough that he hadn't even shared it with Sirius yet. As if summoned by his thoughts, the door to the dormitory eased open, a slice of light spilled across the bottom of James' bed, and Remus slid into the room. He knelt by his trunk for a moment and then picked up his book bag and walked back to the door.

"Remus," James whispered, reaching for his glasses as he caught Remus with his hand on the door. "Where are you going?"

"To the common room. I need to finish my homework. Go back to sleep, James."

As James tumbled out of his bed to follow Remus from the room, he cast a glance at the curtains drawn tightly around Sirius' bed before he sleepily padded out of the room and down the stairs. It was very late and very cold, the fire in the common room already banked for the evening. Remus had sat himself at a table and was pulling books and parchments from his bag. James sat across from him but Remus didn't look up.

"Sirius wanted to wait until you got back before we set the prank on Snape," James said around a yawn. "You weren't back by dinner, though."

"It's all right."

"We could have waited until tomorrow at lunch. I just thought you'd be gone longer." James stopped, tapped his fingers on the table, and then offered his empty hand up. "Like before."

Remus shook his head but didn't say anything. He used his wand to light the candle on the table and took up his quill, dipped it into his ink well, and carefully wrote his name, _Remus J. Lupin_ , at the top of his parchment.

"What are you working on?" James finally asked.

"I didn't finish the Potions' assignment set for tomorrow, and there's twelve inches for Transfiguration. I thought I would have time before I left but I didn't get to it."

"Here," he said, sliding the parchment from beneath Remus' hand and dragging it closer to himself. James knew that Remus hadn't forgotten but didn't get it done because he'd been helping Sirius and James with the prank, and he felt a little guilty about that. "I'll do the Potions. You're rubbish at it anyway."

For a minute, Remus looked as though he might protest but then just passed a quill to James and took a clean parchment from his bag and another quill for himself. They sat quietly, each working, until Remus finally looked up. "Was Snape really mad?"

"He didn't even know what had happened until forever, at least until that git Malfoy worked it out."

"What happened?"

"Sirius took the detention and points." James grinned at the memory of the dinner again, the whole Great Hall laughing when they realized the joke. At least it had felt like the whole school. "I swear I saw Dumbledore laugh."

"You didn't." But now Remus was grinning, too.

"Anyway, Snape deserved it after what he did to Peter."

"He was aiming at you."

James nodded in acknowledgment as they both remembered Snape's anger during Potions the week before when James had managed to impress even Slughhorn by making a perfect _Septisumarius_ potion, beating Snape out during practicals for the first time since Christmas holidays. Snape was sure that James had cheated and he was right. James had. The hex had come in the halls, Snape letting his anger get the better of him when reasoning with Slughorn hadn't worked. Sirius had managed to push James out of the way and Peter had caught the brunt of the hex, the skin on his neck bubbling with boils and sending him to the infirmary. James didn't doubt that Snape deserved the prank.

For a long time, James was silent, working on Remus' Potions assignment, and then watching as Remus scratched his quill across his Transfiguration essay. He noticed now that Remus' hand had a cut across his palm that sliced up his wrist and disappeared into the sleeve of his shirt. Looking more closely, he also saw that Remus had a fading bruise along his hairline and a nick on his ear. "What happened to you?"

"I fell," Remus said as if by rote, not even looking up at James.

"It looks more like you cut your hand on something."

"I did."

"When you fell?"

"Yeah."

James looked at Remus as though he didn't quite believe him but Remus still didn't look at James, just kept his eyes on his parchment, though he hadn't added anything to his essay during their exchange. James was bothered by the flat cadence of Remus' voice, his mind on what Sirius thought and on his own growing suspicions, not wanting either of them to be true.

"Do you know what the Fifth Law of Permutation is?" Remus asked as he set down his quill and began flipping through the pages of his Transfiguration text while James continued to study him closely.

"What did you cut it on?"

"The book lists four but Professor McGonagall said she wants all five. I thought I read it in here."

"Remus."

"What?"

Remus had finally looked up, his mouth and shoulders set in a way that really didn't invite questions. James had seen Remus like this before, but usually it was Sirius who could break past Remus' barriers and shake loose a smile from Remus even if he still managed to evade answering a question. It always made James feel vaguely uneasy when he tried to do it, in a way that he didn't particularly feel when he crossed lines with anyone else. Still, Sirius was asleep and James felt it was his duty to press onward.

"Your hand," James said, reaching across the table to take it gently in his own and raise it up. "What did you cut it on?"

"It's nothing, James." Remus flinched when James pressed a bit too hard at the edge of the bandage and tried to pull it away, but James wouldn't let him. "I fell. You know how clumsy I am."

"I've never seen you fall."

"Well you're not with me all the time, are you.”

"Even when you looked a great git trying to ride a broom for the first time, you didn't fall."

"It's not a big deal," Remus said, finally jerking his hand away. "And thanks for that."

"Most all of the other muggle born kids did, is all."

“Only my mum is a muggle. My dad is a wizard."

"Oh." James catalogued that away as one more bit of information he hadn't known about Remus and wondered if Sirius had. It seemed like something too basic to have not known and he wondered what else there was. "It's just Slughorn had said you didn't grow up magical and you don't know a lot of the things that kids who grew up in the wizarding world know already. You act like it's all new to you. Sometimes it's like it's the first time you've seen magic. Like Evans does."

"I didn't know that you spent a lot of time noticing Evans."

"I don't," James protested. His cheeks were turning a bit pink in the dim light but he wasn't willing to let Remus distract him. "If your dad's a wizard then why didn't you know--"

"My dad doesn't use magic."

"He lives like a Muggle?”

"There are worse crimes.”

"I didn't mean it like that. I just didn't know. I've never heard of a wizard who doesn't use his magic." James rested his chin on his fists stacked one on top of the other on the tabletop and contemplated a world without magic--without brooms, or warming charms on cold days, or Quidditch, which was really too dismal to be borne. "Does he not have a wand or anything?"

"I have his wand," Remus said, and this time it was his turn to blush, embarrassed, James knew, at the suggestion that perhaps his family hadn't enough money to buy him his own wand. "He went to wizarding school. He's a proper wizard."

"Not here though," James says, as if confirming. "He didn't come to Hogwarts."

"No, it was in Romania. That's where he grew up." Remus went back to his parchment, dipping his quill into the ink stand again, and then scratching out a few more lines on his essay in his neat penmanship.

James answered another question on the the Potions assignment before he sat back in his chair, playing with the quill and watching Remus. His thoughts were still on how one would go about living like a Muggle, about why one would even want to try. "Why doesn't your dad use magic?"

"He just doesn't."

"So what does he do?"

"He teaches school in the village."

"To Muggle children?"

"Yeah. He doesn't need magic to do that. Besides my mum doesn't like it." Remus looked up, startled, as if he hadn't meant to make the admission. For a moment, James wondered if Remus would extract a promise from him to never repeat it. In the end, he didn't. He only just lowered his eyes back to his essay. "I need to get this done, James."

"Sure, but--" James chewed on the end of the quill he was holding and stared at the top of Remus' head. He looked again at the bruise on Remus' forehead, looking more brown in the light, as if it were old though he knew it hadn't been there at breakfast the day before, and then again at Remus' hand.

"Sirius thinks your mum and dad beat you," James said casually, almost as if it were part an extension of their previous conversation, and watched carefully for Remus' reaction, not sure what to make of the way Remus' eyes widen in surprise.

"What? No." Remus looked up at James to see if maybe he was joking, then he shook his head dismissively and went back to his essay, and James thought then that Sirius had it wrong. It wasn't Remus' parents, of that he was pretty sure.

"You'd tell us if someone was hurting you, right? Sirius or me."

"It's not my mum and dad," Remus said, his voice raising as he met James' eyes again and cut his hand in the air between them.

"All right, but if someone was hurting you--"

"Tell Sirius that it's not my--"

"I will. Forget I said it."

Remus stared at James for a long time, his mouth pinched together as it had when James announced his plans to prank Snape in front of the whole school, but like then, Remus didn't say anything. When he went back to his essay, he rested his hand in his lap so that James couldn't see it anymore. After another few minutes, James began working on the Potions work again, finishing the questions quickly enough and passing it back to Remus, who didn't look up.

"Did you find the Fifth Law?"

"What?"

"The Fifth Law of Permutation. Did you find it?"

"No."

"It's on page 259, about the inverse permutation reverses the action of any given permutation when--"

"Oh, right. I remember. Thanks."

"Evans said the Lestrange brothers had you cornered once. Told you they were going to perform an Unforgiveable to make you cry."

"They didn't. I mean, they told me that but they didn't do it."

"Are they the ones who--"

"I fell James," Remus said, cutting him off and looking up at him with something like pleading, which took James aback. "I cut my hand when I fell."

"Fine, but--"

"Look, if my parents thought I was being hurt, they wouldn't let me stay."

The plea was still there and it made James shift in his chair. Sirius would know what to say to that, James knew, and he wished he had woken Sirius as he had thought to do before following Remus. James just nodded, leaning across the table and opening his hands on the table in front of him as if to encourage Remus to continue. James was thankful when he did.

"Every other letter my mum sends, she asks if I want to come home. And I don't, all right. I want to stay at Hogwarts. That's why I asked Lily not to say anything about what happened. They didn't hurt me, not much. They just showed me a stupid boggart and threatened to perform the _Cruciatus_ , but I didn't believe they could even do it."

"They can."

Remus lifted his chin a bit, the space between his eyebrows scrunching up as he considered the possibility. James knew this was another place where Sirius would push, wanting to know what the boggart had looked like and which brother had hurt him when he said _not much_ , Rabastan or Rodolphus, and demand to know why Remus hadn't told them immediately and why he was wandering around by himself in the first place. James was tempted again to march up to the dormitory and shake Sirius awake. Remus seemed to sense it, though James didn't really think it was possible, by holding up his hand, the bandage around his palm stark white and not doing much to cover the cut or scratch that disappeared into his sleeve.

"This wasn't that. It wasn't them. I fell on my way to the library last night after dinner and McGonagall saw it. She sent me to the infirmary."

"But if the Lestrange brothers--"

"It was a long time ago. I just stay out of their way now. I asked Lily not to tell. She promised."

"Don't blame her, all right? I made her tell me."

"I thought she hated you."

"Yeah." James couldn't stop his mouth from quirking up into a grin. Lily's hatred was a point of pride for James because she liked everyone in Gryffindor except Potter and Black and yet couldn't resist smiling at even his worst jokes. But the smile faded quickly as he remembered the events of last night. "She was looking for you after dinner and got all scared when we said we didn't know where you were. She said she heard some sixth years talking about how Rabastan got into trouble for doing something to a first year."

"Davy Gudgeon. He's in Hufflepuff. He was in the infirmary this morning." Remus looked down at the bandage, squeezing his hand into a fist in a way that made James' skin crawl. He knew it must have hurt but Remus didn't show any pain. "They said he got too close to the Whomping Willow and almost lost an eye."

"Yeah. Lily heard it was Rabastan but didn't hear who. She was practically in tears, saying she knew she should have told, and I made her. Sirius went mental. He sneaked out to see if it was you but you weren't in the infirmary. Madame Pomfrey caught Sirius and said you weren't there. He saw Davy."

Remus looked up at James and bit his lip. James knew then he'd caught Remus in a lie, or at least a partial lie. James wondered again about Remus' parents, wondered about Snape or another Slytherin. Wondered again about the idea that seemed most ridiculous of all. Wondered about the full moon and Remus' illnesses and missing days.

Remus reached out and grabbed James hand, and James jumped, startled from his thoughts, and met Remus' eyes. "Leave it alone, right James? I really want to stay at Hogwarts.”

James nodded. It seemed impossible, suddenly. This was Remus, who spent so much time in the library actually studying, who managed to stay out of trouble completely for weeks on end when he and Sirius spent so much time in detention. Who Evans actually would deign to talk to. This was the same boy who James had watched sit motionless in the snow for an entire half hour one afternoon getting birds to eat bread crumbs from his hand. That this boy--his friend--could be a _werewolf_ of all things was so supremely stupid that James was glad he never suggested it to Sirius. Besides, he reasoned, it didn't really explain the cuts and bruises. Why would a werewolf hurt himself, anyway, James thought, looking again at the bruise on Remus' forehead.

"Thanks for the help with Potions," Remus said and James almost missed it, absently nodded when Remus stood up, his bag packed. "I'm going to bed. I'm really tired."

"Yeah, sure."

"Are you coming up?"

"In a minute.”

Remus shouldered his bag and headed towards the stair, James still trying to piece together their conversation into something that made sense to him. When he looked back, Remus had stopped on the first step and stood watching him, his mouth tugged down into a frown, as if James had said they couldn't be friends anymore or something. It made him feel bad, as if he had caused Remus' hurts himself. He wondered how Remus did that without ever saying a word and if that was what kept him out of detention even though lately he was usually every bit as guilty as James and Sirius were when there was mischief to be had.

"You have to come up with something better for Sirius," James said, holding Remus' eyes for a moment longer before he looked down at where he was tracing his thumbnail in a long ago carved name on the table. "He won't believe that stuff about the library if I don't. You don't have to tell me but you know Sirius. He'll have it out of you."

"I know."

"And he's already thinking up ways to hex the Lestrange brothers for what Evans said. Maybe." James swallowed and then turned back to Remus, offering him up a small smile as a peace offering. "Maybe you should let him. Maybe they deserve it."


	6. Chapter 6

That it wasn't the first time it had happened made Remus almost philosophical about it, or as philosophical as a twelve year old werewolf was capable of being. He knew the three Slytherins who had him cornered in an empty classroom, even though they weren't in his year. They'd dumped out his bag, ripped his parchments and crushed his quills beneath their shoes, warning him not to say anything. Two of them then held him down whilst a third hit him, trying to get him to say he was filth, a half breed, trying to make him cry. He didn't. He never did.

Later--much later--the castle was strangely quiet when Remus finally ventured from his hiding place and made his careful way back to the Gryffindor tower. He held his left arm tight against his chest, his hand throbbing, and the remains of his bag were wrapped around his belongings and tucked beneath his other arm. It took him three tries to remember the password, the fat lady sleepily telling him _try again, dear_ before he got it right. There was no one in the common room except a pair of seventh years snogging on the couch closest to the fire who didn't even look up as Remus struggled to climb through the portrait. It was a small relief to think that the other boys would be asleep, that no one would actually see him like this. He could clean up, crawl beneath the sheets of his bed, and sink into sleep without having to talk to anyone or having to answer questions, and the last thing he wanted to do was answer questions. Remus eased the door open to the dormitory he shared with James, Sirius, and Peter, and knew immediately that it wasn't going to be that easy.

The other boys were on the floor in front of James' bed, their backs to the door. Peter raised up on his knees, his hands cupped one on top of the other, and Remus knew they were playing Exploding Snap, at least James' version of it, which involved a lot more explosions. Peter was laughing, his sandy hair stuck up like James' in the morning and his face covered in soot, nothing like it had been when Remus had seen him earlier. Remus bit his lip, measuring the distance between where he stood just at the threshold to their room and his bed, wondering if he could get into it and behind his curtains before James or Sirius saw him. He only managed one step before Peter spotted him, his round face going pale again and his mouth falling open in surprise. James and Sirius turned to see what he was looking at.

"I'm all right," Remus said instinctively as he looked away from Peter and took a sideways step to his bed, but he wasn't quick enough. James and Sirius had scrambled to their feet and moved to flank him.

"What happened?" Sirius asked as he reached for Remus' bag, the contents spilling to the floor.

"I fell."

"We never believe you when you tell us that," James said and Remus looked up at him sharply. He pushed past James to go to his bed and put what was left of his bag down without saying a word. 

"Tell us who hurt you," Sirius said, and they were closer now, James and Sirius, and Remus had no where else to go.

"No one hurt me."

"Why do you keep protecting them?"

"I'm not protecting anyone."

Sirius reached for Remus' arm, which Remus still held tight against his chest, and Sirius pulled it closer to him, his fingers gentle around Remus' wrist. They both looked down to where Remus' swollen and purple fingers twisted in awkward directions and Remus squeezed his eyes shut. "Your fingers are broken."

"Fell."

"You have a black eye and your lip is busted." James crossed his arms over his chest. "And your stuff is ruined, your books and your quills. Where's your wand?"

Remus drew his wand out from an inside pocket of his robe and held it up with shaky fingers before he tossed it down next to his bag on his bed.

"Tell me who did this," Sirius said quietly. "Tell me who hurt you, Remus."

"It was nobody, Sirius. Just leave it, yeah?"

"Why?" Sirius leaned in closer, his hair falling over his eyes, and Remus wanted to look away from the concern he saw in Sirius' eyes, knowing that could tip him over into the tears that the Slytherins couldn't force from him. He took a shaky breath and a step back, only to run into James, who steadied him with hands on shoulders. "Why won't you tell me?"

"I can't."

"What do you mean you can't?" James asked.

"It'll make it worse."

"We'll protect you, Remus. We can protect you."

"You can't."

"We made a promise, remember? We'll find a way."

"They won't go after you, right? They'll--" Remus stopped and looked over his shoulder. James followed the path of his eyes to where Peter silently stood, his hands still clasped one over the other.

"Peter?" James asked, his face twisting in confusion. "Has someone been after you, too?"

"No," Peter said, looking down at his feet.

"They just threaten him," Remus said. He took a deep, shuddering breath and turned to Sirius, spreading the fingers of his unhurt hand wide. "Look. I can take it, right? Nobody has made me cry. Not even the Lestranges. If they come after me, they'll leave Peter alone. I've kept the pact."

"I didn't break it, Remus," Peter whined.

"No one said you did, Peter."

"What do you mean?" James took a step toward Peter. "What's he talking about, Peter?"

"It was Mulciber and his brother," Peter said in a rush, opening his hand to look down at the dice in his sweaty palm. "And someone else, I don't know their name. He's in fourth year, I think."

"Peter--" Remus' voice sounded like a warning. 

Peter looked up, his cheeks a mottled red and his eyes small and scared. "They said that if I said anything that I would be next."

"When?" Sirius took a step forward so that he was standing between Remus and Peter, his finger still wrapped tight around Remus' wrist as though he thought that Remus might still try to run away.

"Tonight. Before dinner. Remus said he would take care of it. He told me to go."

"Tell me exactly what happened." James demanded, taking another step until he was standing nearly toe to toe with Peter. 

Peter dropped the dice in his hand, causing a tiny explosion at their feet, and he began to rub his hands together as if washing in an invisible sink. "I forgot my book in Charms and Remus went with me to get it. The Mulcibers caught us. Remus told them to leave me alone but Stuart said that I owed him from Potions the other day. From when I knocked into him in the hall when we were leaving. Remus said that he would take it. He told me to leave."

"So you just left them to it," Sirius spit out.

"No! They pushed me from the room and I stood there. I thought I'd go get one of the professors or Mr. Filch or someone but then that tall boy came and they started in on Remus about his robes and his books, saying that he must be--"

"Don't, Peter," Remus begged, not wanting to hear it again.

"That he must be here on charity. They asked me if I was a pureblood and I told them I was and they asked if I knew what Remus was."

"And what did you tell them?" James asked.

"I said I knew his dad is a wizard and that his mum is a muggle. And then he asked me what my mum was and I told them she's a witch."

"And then what happened?"

"Nothing. Remus told me to go. I went down to dinner."

"And you didn't tell us?" Sirius voice was flat and hard, his eyes sparking.

Peter took a step back, stumbling a bit and catching himself against James' bed. "Remus told me to go. What would you have done?"

"Don't be mad at him," Remus said, pulling his hand from Sirius' grip and turning back to his bed. "He couldn't have done anything. They would have beat him."

"Like they did you."

"I can take it."

"You should have told, Peter." James took off his glasses and polished the lenses on his shirt tail before putting them back on. He studied Peter for a minute, the room quiet, and Peter couldn't look at James, couldn't look at any of them. Finally, James turned his back on Peter and reached for Remus. "Right. We'll go down to the infirmary and then we're going to McGonagall."

"No. I don't want to go tonight." Remus sidestepped James and went to his trunk, lifting the lid to dig out his pajamas. "I'm tired. I just want to go to bed."

"Your hand is broken."

"It's not that bad. I'll go in the morning." He kept his back to them, not wanting to see pity from them but then missed the look that he later knew must have passed between James and Sirius. Sirius came to him, put his hand on his shoulder, and Remus stood up straight, still holding his arm against his chest. "I don't want to go," he whispered.

Sirius didn't say anything else but squeezed his shoulder gently and Remus slumped a bit, defeated. He dropped his pajamas and walked out with Sirius without another word.

***

In the infirmary, Madame Pomfrey tsked over Remus when she saw him and shooed Sirius away as she drew a screen around the bed. Sirius just stood there, listening as Madame Pomfrey talked in quiet tones to Remus. He knew he should have gone when he was told. He told himself that he hated to leave Remus alone when he'd been so reluctant to come in the first place, and that was true, but he was also curious as to what Remus would say, how he would explain this.

"This will hurt a bit," Sirius heard Madame Pomfrey say to Remus and then Remus' whispered _I know. It's all right._ A murmured spell a second later and then came the sound of bones grinding against each other and a sound like all the air had been let out of Remus, though he didn't cry out.

"Better?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"Do you want to tell me what happened?"

"No."

"I worry about the boys rough housing with you," Madame Pomfrey said, and Sirius shifted his feet, twisting his lips in his effort to keep quiet. "Lift up your shirt and let me see the wound on your back. It hasn't had time to heal properly."

"It's fine. It doesn't hurt."

"I'll be the judge of that, Mr. Lupin. Up." There was silence then, and Sirius took a careful step closer. "It looks all right but I want you to stay here overnight."

"I'm all right. I'd really just like to go back to my room."

"You'll stay here and I'll talk to Professor McGonagall as well. She'll have to have a talk with Potter and Black. You need rest, Remus, and those boys are entirely too wild--"

"They didn't do this!" Remus' voice raised a bit in panic and maybe a little horror at the idea that Madame Pomfrey would suggest that he and James would beat Remus up. Sirius was a little indignant, too. They had never hurt anyone, unless they deserved it, and Remus never had. 

"Then tell me who did."

"Just some older boys. I didn't know them."

"Surely you saw the color of their ties."

"I didn't pay attention."

"It's fine if you don't want to talk to me. Perhaps you'd rather tell the Headmaster? Or we could owl your father if you would feel safer talking to him?"

"Please don't tell my dad!" There was real panic in Remus' voice now and Sirius thought again about his and James' ongoing debate. There were still times when he thought that Remus' parents were like his own, when he saw something in Remus' eyes that reminded him of his younger brother, Regulus. It was easier to believe than the alternative, than James' alternative. 

"I'll talk to Professor McGonagall," Remus said. "Tomorrow, all right?"

"I'll follow up, Remus. We don't tolerate this behavior, and I especially won't stand for someone bullying you. You go through enough without having your classmates adding to it. This last time was bad, right? Worse than before."

"I'm all right," Remus said urgently, pleading with Madame Pomfrey to understand it seemed, and Sirius wondered what was getting worse, what Remus went through. He thought again of James' whispered confession, of what he suspected, and Sirius rubbed his suddenly sweaty hands against his jeans. 

"May I please go back to my room. I'd rather sleep there."

Madame Pomfrey took a deep breath, sounding as though she was trying to collect herself. "I suppose you've seen me enough for one month, yes?"

"Enough of the infirmary," Remus said diplomatically, and Sirius could imagine Remus' expression, the one he used when getting them out of trouble in class or with Madame Pince when she caught them rifling through the stacks. 

"You may leave in the morning, Remus. Now, change, and I'll bring you some warm milk to help you sleep." Madame Pomfrey came around the screen and stopped when she saw Sirius standing a few beds down, looking simultaneously guilty and worried. "Sirius Black," she said, her voice high with surprise. She took a step back, her hand fluttering to rest on her chest as if he'd been a ghost, and Sirius felt as though he'd been caught stealing.

Sirius swallowed hard, the flash of fear in Madame Pomfrey's eyes gone as quick as it had come, confirming something inside him, and he shifted on his feet. "May Remus come back with me?"

"I think it best if he stay here for tonight."

"May I see him?"

"In the morning, Mr. Black."

"Please? I really need to see him."

Madame Pomfrey sighed, letting her hands fall to her side. "For a few minutes, Mr. Black, but you’ll have to leave when I come back."

Sirius nodded, then stepped around the screen to find Remus where he sat on the edge of the bed, twisting his still bruised fingers together. 

"She’s making me stay tonight," Remus said, not looking up at where Sirius stood at the foot of the bed.

"I heard."

"And I have to talk to Professor McGonagall tomorrow."

Sirius sat down on the bed and crossed his arms over his thin chest. "I’ll go with if you want."

Remus shook his head no and they sat quietly, Sirius knowing what he needed to ask but not quite sure how to go about it. He knew Remus would tell him whatever he wanted to know if Sirius pushed, just like Regulus had always confided in him. There were lines that could be crossed though, he knew, and he worried sometimes what would happen. It was quiet in the infirmary, and Sirius wondered if Remus would be there alone all night. Wondered how many nights he'd spent alone there, since Sirius was suddenly quite sure that Remus had never had to go home, that his mother had never been ill. That Remus' parents had never hurt him.

Sirius cleared his throat and sat up a little straighter. "Madame Pomfrey asked you if it was getting worse. Are you sick?"

"I’m not diseased," Remus whispered miserably. "It’s not a disease."

"What isn't?"

"The scars."

"And your back? Madame Pomfrey said you had a wound."

Remus nodded, looking quite despondent. "You won't catch anything from me."

"I didn't think I would." Sirius ran his hand through his hair and crossed his arms back over his chest. "Is that what they said to you? Mulciber and--

"Yeah, like Severus did in Potions."

"I’ll make them stop."

"Sirius."

"James and I." Sirius turned to look at Remus, at the bruise that circled his eye, at the way he worried his lip between his teeth. "Madame Pomfrey asked if you’d had enough of the infirmary for the month. What did she mean?"

Remus shook his head and didn’t answer.

"You don’t trust me?"

"I do but I can’t tell you," Remus whispered. "You’ll hate me if I do. You and James and Peter."

"No we won’t. You can’t have done anything too bad. You’re eleven and you spend most of your time in the library."

Remus gave a miserable smile that was gone as quick it had come. "Twelve. My birthday was month before last."

"When?"

"March 10th."

"Why didn't you tell us?"

Remus shrugged. "I’ve never had friends before."

"You have too many secrets, Remus."

Remus nodded then bent at the waist, covering his face with his hands. Sirius put his hand on Remus’ back and took a deep breath, not knowing what else to say and was saved from doing so when Madame Pomfrey came back a moment later. She put her hand on Sirius' shoulder and he looked up at her, taking some comfort at the kindness he found in her eyes. 

"Straight back with you, Mr. Black," she said, setting a goblet of steaming milk on the table near the bed. "Mr. Lupin needs rest. You can come for him in the morning."

Sirius rubbed his hand over Remus’ back, patted his shoulder and got up, Madame Pomfrey leading him from the room. He looked back once and saw Remus looking back at him, his face pale and pinched with worry. Sirius had had secrets, too, and hated keeping them. It'd been a relief when he'd met James and discovered that James wouldn't hate him even after he'd found out about his family, about the things his family did and believed. He forced a lopsided smile to his lips and half raised his hand to Remus, wanting to tell him it would be all right, even if James turned out to be right, but then Madame Pomfrey was closing the door and Sirius was alone in the dark hall, turning to head back to his room.

 

**May 11 (Thursday) 1972**

Early the next morning, Remus was ready to leave the infirmary and go down to breakfast before he went back to his dormitory to change into his uniform. Outside the door, he found Sirius, James and Peter waiting for him, Sirius holding his book bag where they'd repaired what they could.

"I’m sorry, Remus," Peter said, taking a step forward when James put his hand on Peter’s shoulder and gave him a shove. 

Remus flicked his gaze from Peter's black eye to Sirius before he whispered, "It’s all right, Peter."

"It’s not," James said. "But it’s not going to happen again. We protect each other."

"No matter what," Sirius added.

"To the death," Peter said, looking solemn enough that Remus laughed out loud, slapping a hand over his mouth when Peter looked up surprised. They all laughed then, things set right between them. 

On the way to the Great Hall, Remus began to think that maybe everything would go back to normal when Sirius slung his arm over Remus’ shoulder and they walked four abreast. James kept up a running commentary about how fourth years Gideon and Fabian Prewitt were caught out of bounds after curfew the night before talking a Hufflepuff prefect into believing they were sleep walking rather than raiding the kitchens and _who knew you could even raid the kitchens_. It was only a little strange that before they sat down at the table, Sirius pushed Peter to go around to the other side and sit next to James and pulled Remus to sit next to him. Sirius and James had always sat next to each other at meals since the beginning of school. Finally, it was when James pulled a small, poorly wrapped gift from his bag and put it on the table in front of Remus that Remus knew at least one of his secrets was no longer his, but discovered he didn't mind too much. 

"It’s from all of us," James said.

Remus picked it up the package and held it in his hands, turning it over and over.

"You’re meant to open it." James grinned at Remus as he pushed his glasses further up onto his nose and then leaned forward on his elbows.

"With as much glee as possible," Sirius added.

"Glee?" Remus repeated, sparing a smirk in Sirius' direction, before he turned his attention back to the gift. He'd never had one before, not from a friend and certainly not from three friends. He slipped his fingers into the seam of the paper and carefully pulled away the Sellotape. "But what's it for?"

"Your birthday, of course," Sirius said as he, too, grinned at Remus.

"It won’t explode will it?"

"Open it," Sirius urged.

"But what is it?"

Sirius leaned closer and James and Peter leaned in, too. "It's for when your mum is sick and you have to go home. It's so you won't have to be alone."

Remus stared down at the present in his hands and didn't dare look up, afraid of his emotions finally spilling over. As if reading his mind, James sat up, cleared his throat and tapped his fork onto his goblet. "Lads. This business with the Slytherins cannot stand. I have a plan."


	7. Chapter 7

 Dinner was Welsh rarebit that day, Peter's favorite, and he had been talking around it for nearly a half hour solid about the possibility of England recruiting the Norwegian beater, Olaf Masterson. He'd repeated statistics and game plays to Sirius, who stared back at him blankly, his fork poised over his plate, though he hadn't moved in at least five minutes. Sirius was funny like that sometimes and usually James could tease him out of it, but James had been held back in Charms for having turned Lily Evans' teacup into a great fat beetle with pink polkadots. He'd said it was an accident and Peter had almost believed him, until he'd caught the glance that passed between James and Sirius and knew it hadn't been an accident at all.  
    
So it was up to him, Sirius was, because Remus wasn't being any help either. He was slumped over his book, never raising his eyes, and though Peter had been tempted give him a little nudge in Sirius' direction by kicking his ankle, he hadn't taken the chance. He wasn't sure about that sort of thing anymore. And what had started out as blank, Sirius' expression, had turned into a scowl after a while and Peter knew that Sirius could start yelling at him at any minute, or fighting with someone, maybe Edmund Gordon Forbes, the first year Hufflepuff sat directly behind Sirius, who kept chirping like a bird, loudly, anytime one of his mates took a drink from their goblets. Peter couldn't imagine what _that_ was about and wished he would stop, wished he knew a spell to just make everything stop, and then suddenly James was there.  
    
"Masterson's not got a chance, mate," James said, cutting across Peter's monologue, and Peter stopped, grateful, and took a breath. James dropped his bag onto the floor and as he sat, grinned down the table at Lily, who tossed her braids and refused to look back at him.  
    
"But you remember that save he made in the game against Germany. He's got the best chance. Do you remember, Sirius?" Peter asked, turning back to Sirius and reaching for another serving of carrots and parsnips. "Masterson dove fifty feet and nearly fell off his broom."   
   
"Are you all right?" 

It was James again, interrupting Peter before he could get to the best part, the play against France two seasons ago. Peter stopped talking, still looking at Sirius, waiting for his answer to James' question, but Sirius had turned to look at Remus and now Peter did, too.  

"I'm fine," Remus said, still not lifting his eyes from his book.  

"You haven't eaten." Sirius set his fork down with a clatter onto his plate and Peter noticed now that Sirius hadn't really eaten either.   
   
"I'm not hungry."

"You're always hungry."

"I'm not." Peter watched as Remus pinched his lips around whatever else he wanted to say, clearly not willing to start the fight that Sirius was itching to finish. Instead, Remus shook his head and stood. "I think I'm just going back up to the dorm."

"Do you want one of us to go with you? In case you need to go to the infirmary."

Remus gave James such a quizzical look that Peter was sure he knew they knew and he felt a thrill run down his spine. _Surely, it was true_ , he thought and nervously reached for a lemon tart.

"No. I don't need a babysitter. I'll see you lot later." They watched as Remus gathered his things and walked out of the Great Hall, looking back at them twice before he disappeared behind the tall doors.  
     
"We should tell him tonight that we know," Sirius said. "Before he leaves."  

"Not yet," James said. "Not until we're sure."

"I thought we were sure."

James shook his head, reaching for another helping and the tomatoes at the same time. "We have to be _sure_ sure."

Peter really didn't understand. James and Sirius thought that Remus was a werewolf, _that_ he got, but nobody was to know. And Remus wasn't supposed to know that they knew. He'd asked James about the professors, about the headmaster, if maybe they shouldn't tell at least Professor McGonagall. Sirius had sneered at him and called him stupid, but it made sense. You couldn't just have a werewolf running about. His brother had told him all about werewolves and vampires, about how they'd kill you in your sleep and suck your blood, at least the vampires would. His brother had been a little sketchy on the details of werewolves, but they had to be just as bad.  
    
"Why can't we just ask him?" Peter asked, though he didn't really think he wanted to hear the answer.

"That'd go over a treat, wouldn't it. 'Excuse me, Remus, but is it true that you're actually a dark creature?' He didn't even tell us about his birthday until two months after."

"Keep your voice down, Sirius," James hissed, though he kept on eating even when Sirius slumped down on the bench in a sulk. "Besides," he added, pointing his fork at Peter, "we might still be wrong."  

"We're not," Sirius bit out.  

"But we need to be sure." 

If Peter was honest, the whole thing made him uneasy, like maybe he'd like to go have a lie down as well. He liked Remus, he did. Without him Peter knew that he would never pass Astronomy, and he was always good to go to when Peter was stuck on his homework. James joked so much that Peter was never sure he was getting the right answers, and Sirius would get impatient and angry and end up sending him to Remus anyway. Remus always explained things the right way and never made him feel stupid for asking.

No, James was right and it wouldn't matter if Remus was a werewolf. Second year was meant to be twice as hard as first and Peter was sure he'd never get on without Remus' help. "How are we going to be sure?"   

Finally James put down his knife and fork and pushed away his plate to lean forward on the table. The light glinted off his glasses and it was all Peter could see for a moment, lending to James' words a particularly eerie tone. "Tonight, when he leaves the dorm, we're going to follow."  

"Tonight? At the full moon?" Peter asked, his round face going pink as he clasped his hands in front of him. "What if he is one?"  

Sirius shared a look with James. "James and I will go. You stay in the room in case someone asks where we are."  

"I'm serious, though. What if he is one? Will we tell then?"

"Do you really think Dumbledore doesn't already know?"

"Do you think he does?"

"Of course he knows," James said. He tapped his chin with his finger, looking thoughtfully over to the High Table where most of their professor still sat enjoying their dinners. "I bet McGonagall knows, too. She'd have to."

"And Pomfrey," Sirius added. "She has to take care of him, after. She must."

"I still don't get that part," Peter said. It was hard to miss Remus' scars even though he worked hard to keep them covered. Even worse were the cuts, scrapes, and bruises that Remus still got even after James and Sirius managed to stop the Slytherins from bullying Remus, at least mostly stopped them. Sirius was silent on the subject but James said that Remus must be doing it to himself somehow. That it must be part of it, part of being a werewolf, which didn't make any sense because they had all seen Professor McGonagall turn into a cat and it didn't hurt her at all. "Can we ask him? After."

James' eyes flickered to Sirius but neither answered and Peter sighed. 

"Well, how about Professor Kettleburn?" Peter asked. "Wouldn't he know?"

"Why would he know?"

Peter recognized the look in Sirius' eyes and knew he was in a dangerous mood to begin with but really, it seemed like an obvious question. "Because werewolves are beasts."

"Remus isn't a beast," Sirius said, his voice raising, and Peter thought that Remus being a werewolf couldn't be half as bad as Sirius being Sirius sometimes.

"We don't know that he's anything," James snapped at them both. Sirius sat back on the bench, his arms crossed over his chest but he didn't say anything else. "Look, Snape is watching, the greasy git. Let's just go up to the Common Room."

Later, when they got back up to the room, they found that Remus was already gone, that he likely had never been there, and Sirius stood in the middle of the room, staring at Remus' empty bed for a long time. Peter sat on his own bed, secretly watching Sirius from beneath his fringe as Peter lay back with his arms beneath his head. He was glad Remus was gone. Now they couldn't follow him because no matter what they said, with the sun quickly disappearing into the horizon and night coming on, the thought that their roommate was a werewolf was scary and Peter was back to not wanting to know.

"He'll be in the infirmary," Sirius said after such a long silence that Peter jumped, his thoughts having skipped along to the essay due on Monday morning, the chance of playing chess with James later, the letter he'd planned to write (finish) to his mother. "We could still follow."

"Follow to where? If he's in the infirmary--"

"They wouldn't keep him there," James said as he went to stand next to Sirius. "It has to be someplace safe."

"Like the dungeons?"

Sirius shook his head. "We've been all through the dungeons."

"When?" Peter asked but didn't get an answer. He didn't really need one. He knew about Remus and his map, had even taken out the worn piece of parchment once when Remus had gone to the library and saw Sirius' spiky handwriting all over it. He wondered if James knew about it, too.

"You stay here, Peter," James said finally, turning away from the window through which Peter could see the last rays of the sun cutting across the sky and turning the low clouds pink and orange. "If anyone asks, say that we've gone to the library."

Nobody asked. Peter had stayed in the room all night, waiting for James and Sirius to come back before finally falling asleep. When he woke, it was because Sirius had thrown his shoes beneath his bed, thumping them against his trunk, and the sky was lightening now. It was past dawn.

"Were you two out all night?" Sirius didn't answer. He pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it onto the floor, huffing out a breath as he pushed his hair out of his face. Peter looked to James instead, who was standing where Sirius had last night and staring at Remus' bed. "What happened? Is he one?"

"Yeah. Madame Pomfrey took him to the Whomping Willow. We followed them. She made the branches stop and they disappeared inside."

"Like a secret passage?"

"Yeah."

"But how did they get inside."

"I don't know, Peter."

"So we're sure now?"

"Yeah, we're sure."

"Are we going to tell him we know?"

"No. We're not going to tell anyone," Sirius said, his voice breaking on the last word. He had stood still with his back to Peter while he and James talked but he turned now, his fists clenched at his sides. His face was terrible, angry and scared, and Peter had to look away, his stomach roiling with a sudden fear. After a moment's silence, Sirius grabbed his pajamas and walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

"We waited until the sun came up," James said as soon as Sirius was gone. "That's when Madame Pomfrey came back. Remus is hurt. His leg was bleeding badly. He was--" 

James stopped and Peter waited to see if he would say anything more but James only took his glasses off and polished the lenses with the tail of his shirt. There was something there, something in James' face, that stopped Peter from asking anything else. It was enough to know that it was real, that Remus was a werewolf. That was enough. He laid back down on his pillows and covered his face with his hands, glad when James didn't say anything else, just laid down on his bed and twitched his curtains closed. After a while, Sirius came back into the room and crawled into his own bed, pulling the curtains closed as well. 

Peter knew that he wasn't going to sleep anymore and stood and stared for a few minutes, not sure what he should do. In the end, he just got dressed and went down to breakfast by himself. He sat with Christine Whitcher and Davy Gudgeon at the Hufflepuff table and found out why Edmund Gordon Forbes had been chirping at dinner--a lost bet. Later, he went with them to the greenhouses and by the time he got back to the tower, it was late and Remus was back, sitting up on his bed and playing chess with James while Sirius was stretched out next to them, sleeping.

And that's how it was for the rest of the school year. Remus was a werewolf and nobody else knew, and if Remus knew that Peter, James, and Sirius knew, he never let on. Peter passed Astronomy. James and Sirius had earned a detention clear through to the first week of their second year. The first week! And Peter had owled his brother to ask if you could tell just by looking if someone was a werewolf. He didn't mention Remus. His brother said that it was a widely known fact that werewolves in their human form smelled like hay lofts on account of that was where they slept when it wasn't a full moon, but Remus just smelled like Remus, soap and sometimes the closed in smell of the library when he'd been studying for a long time. Peter thought maybe his brother really was full of shit.


End file.
